


Unfold Your Love

by Lynx22281



Series: Unfold Your Love [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cop!Dean, Doctor!Castiel, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:57:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynx22281/pseuds/Lynx22281
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of how a cop and an ER doc meet and fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“On the count of three.” 

 

Dean and Benny pounded fists against their open palms three times. Dean groaned in defeat as Benny threw rock to beat his scissors. 

 

“Always with the scissors, Dean,” Benny said with a sly grin. 

 

“Best three out of five?” Dean asked hopefully as he apprehensively eyed the big blue dumpster sitting next to the back door of _Number 1 Chinese Restaurant_ , which last time he checked was far from the number one Chinese restaurant in Lawrence. They had been chasing a perpetrator on foot when the guy threw the paper bag he was carrying into the garbage as they ran by. They caught him two blocks later and he was currently locked in the back of the squad car parked at the head of the alley. 

 

“Hell no. I won fair and square.” Still grinning, Benny gestured to the dumpster with a flourish. “Hop to it, brutha.” 

 

Dean rolled his eyes and began to strip down to his undershirt. There was no way he was getting rotten Kung Pao chicken and moldy lo mien all over his uniform. Cleaning garbage out of the embroidered patches sewn on the shirt was a pain in the ass that he’d rather avoid. He tossed his shirt and radio to Benny, glaring the whole time. Grabbing hold of the corner of the dumpster, he stepped up on an overturned crate and vaulted over the dumpster’s edge. As his left hand twisted on the lip of metal, he felt a sharp burning sting drag across his palm. With a hiss, he cursed. 

 

“You alright?” 

 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” Dean glanced down at the two-inch long gash running across the inside of his hand. Blood welled up in an uneven line on his palm. No time to worry about that now. He dug a pair of black latex gloves from the pocket at his right thigh and slapped them on before proceeding to poke through the garbage. Of course, their suspect couldn’t have picked a dumpster outside a post office or an office building, one full of nice, dry paper and cardboard, to throw the bag in. Nope, it had to be a restaurant dumpster full of raw meat scraps, wilting vegetables, and discarded rice all covered in a gravy of days old cooking grease and stale soy sauce. 

 

"This is disgusting!" Dean grumbled, loud enough to be heard. 

 

“Glad it’s you and not me,” Benny quipped with a chuckle. 

 

He pawed deeper into the putrid restaurant garbage. Moving forward, he lost his foothold on the top of the pile and ended up knee-deep in the mess. The pile of debris shifted, tumbling its top layer of muck towards Dean’s thighs. Cursing in exasperation, he rolled his eyes heavenward. When he looked over his shoulder, he noticed a familiar wrinkled, brown paper bag hanging from the corner of the dumpster he’d jumped over earlier, miraculously dry and safe from the refuse around it. “Seriously?!” he sighed in frustration. 

 

“Need some help?” 

 

“No. I found it.” He waded the few feet back over to the other side of the dumpster and grabbed the bag. “Jackpot!” he cried with a happy grin as he pulled out a handgun and held it up over the edge of the dumpster for Benny to see. His partner opened up an evidence bag for him to drop the gun in. “9mm.” 

 

“That's what was used in the Wesson robbery.” 

 

“Let’s get Mr. Saggy Pants back to the department for a little chat with Hendrickson and Cresser.” Dean hauled himself out of the dumpster and pulled off his gloves. He had forgotten about the scratch on his hand while he was concentrating on not falling face first into the muck. The rubber squelched wetly against his left hand as he pulled off the disposable glove. Furrowing his brow, he looked down to see his whole hand covered in blood. Now that his attention was focused back on the injury, it slowly started to throb with pain. “Well, shit.” 

 

“Problem?” Benny took a step closer to hand his partner back his uniform shirt and radio. 

 

“Cut myself on the dumpster.” He held his hand up as he took his shirt, carefully threading his arms through the short sleeves to keep from getting blood everywhere. Thankfully his shirt was black. 

 

“Looks pretty bad.” Benny frowned as he grabbed Dean’s hand to get a better look. It was hard to see the wound itself for all the blood. 

 

“We got any Band-Aids in the trunk?” 

 

“I think this needs more than a Band-Aid, Dean,” Benny replied with a hint of concern in his voice. What little bit of the cut that could be seen through the blood showed that it was deep and ragged. He dug a clean, white handkerchief out of his back pocket (Dean thought it was an oddly old fashioned habit for someone not much that older than himself to have) and pressed it firmly into his partner’s palm. 

 

Dean took over holding pressure to his wound as the two of them headed back to their car. 

 

“Man, this is cruel and unusual punishment!” their suspect cried from the back of the patrol car as they opened the front doors. The sounds of Hanson’s _MmmBop_ roared out of the car's speakers. They had left it on repeat while they were at the dumpster. 

 

Dean twisted around to get a look at the guy. “Could be worse. I could have put in his Celine Dion CD.” 

 

Benny chuckled as he pulled the car out into traffic. Twenty minutes later they pulled into the parking lot at the Lawrence Police Department. Dean had bled through the handkerchief and every fast food napkin he could find in the glove box and stuffed between the seats. 

 

“Stay put. I’m gonna get this guy booked, then I’m takin’ you to the ER. If that cut wasn’t so bad, you wouldn’t be bleedin’ all over the damn place. Plus, who knows what kind of nasty crap was in that dumpster.” 

 

“I’m fine, Benny.” Dean pressed down harder on the wad of bloody napkins in an attempt to force his body to stop leaking like a faucet. 

 

“Don’t make me throw you in the back so you can’t run away.” 

 

Dean rolled his eyes and slumped down in his seat as his partner escorted their suspect into headquarters. At this point, he couldn’t deny that the gash on his hand obviously needed more than a Band-Aid and a kiss to make it better. With his luck, he’d catch some super nasty bug and his hand would fall off if he didn’t play nice and let Benny drive him to the hospital. 

 

Benny handed him a towel as he slid into the driver’s seat. “You want me to turn on the lights and siren?” 

 

Dean just glared and Benny laughed, turning the car towards Lawrence Memorial on the other side of town. 

 

~~~~~ 

 

“Hey, isn’t that your brother-in-law?” Ruby asked, elbowing Jess gently in the side. 

 

Jess looked up from the computer at the nurses’ station in the emergency department. Her brother-in-law the cop didn’t just show up in the ED for no reason. Dread burst through chest as several panicked thoughts rushed through her mind all at once. Did Dean get shot? Was Sam hurt? It took her a second to breathe and push away those thoughts before she could focus on finding Dean in the typical, mid-day crowd of patients, visitors, and medical staff. She spied him cradling his arm close to his chest and being ushered to a curtained bed by one of the other nurses with Benny tagging along behind them. Dean was walking on his own so whatever was wrong couldn’t be too bad. She hastily clicked the save button on her screen and logged off. 

 

She turned to Ruby. “Will you check on Mrs. Anderson in room 3? She’s waiting on a bed upstairs.” 

 

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your brother and his partner?” the dark-haired nurse inquired with interest sparkling in her eyes. Jess couldn't blame her for looking. Dean looked like a Calvin Klein underwear model and Benny was a big cuddly bear of a man with the sweetest blue eyes. 

 

“Um, no. If everything you brag about after a weekend off is true, then I don’t want you anywhere near the guys in my family,” she replied with a good natured laugh as she rounded the station counter to check on their newest patient. “Besides, Benny’s married and you’re not exactly Dean’s type.” 

 

Jess pulled back the edge of the curtain just in time to see the nurse begin to unwrap the towel tightly binding Dean’s left hand. She was greeted with a simultaneous "Hey Jess" from Dean and Benny. Dean grimaced in pain as the last layer of towel was pulled away from his wound and Benny leaned closer to the bed, looking more like a mother hen than a police officer. 

 

Jess stepped up next to the bed. “Julie, Mr. Barker’s lab results are back. I’ll take care of Officer Winchester for you.” 

 

The other nurse nodded and disappeared back into the hubbub of the emergency department. Jess slid on a pair of gloves. She spread a drape over the overbed table and brought Dean’s hand over to rest on the tabletop before beginning to clean his cut. “What happened?” 

 

“Lost a game of rock, paper, scissors,” he replied with a hiss at the first burning touch of the antiseptic to his open skin. 

 

At Jess's look of confusion, Benny clarified, “Dumpster diving after evidence. Got snagged on a sharp piece of metal." 

 

“Well, that explains the smell. I was worried you had gastro issues.” Jess’s eyes crinkled slightly as she grinned at the pair of them. “It’s bad enough dealing with you after Mexican night.” 

 

“Oh, ha ha ha.” Dean winced as his sister-in-law assessed the now clean wound as gently as possible. 

 

Once she was finished with her assessment, she stuck a thermometer under his tongue. “Looks like it’ll need stitches. Luckily for you, our attending is the ED’s best with a needle and thread. When was your last tetanus shot?” 

 

“Uh…hmm…” Dean frowned around the thermometer as he tried to recall the date of his last booster. 

 

“I’ll get one ordered then. Better safe than sorry.” The thermometer beeped and she pulled it from his mouth, ejecting its plastic cover into the trash. Jess took the blood pressure cuff from the wire basket by the head of the bed and fit it snuggly around Dean’s bicep. As she squeezed the pump, she turned to Benny. “Are you going to stay here with him?” 

 

“I don’t trust him to not walk out if somebody isn’t watchin’ him like a hawk, plus I’ve got paperwork to fill out because of his accident-prone ass.” Benny held up a folder. 

 

“Alright. I’ll go see if Dr. Novak’s free to come have a look at you.” With a quick rip of Velcro, she pulled off the blood pressure cuff and dumped back in its basket. 

 

Chart in hand, Jess slipped out from the curtained area and Benny settled in the chair next to the bed to start filling out the accident report. Dean looked down at his hand. Drops of blood slowly rolled over the side of his palm to land on the pad covering the table where his hand rested. At least the bleeding had finally slowed to a sluggish trickle. After the cleaning, he could easily see how ragged the cut was. 

 

Fifteen long, boring minutes later, the curtain was ripped back without any warning, throwing both cops into startled threat mode. A haggard looking doctor appeared wearing a white lab coat over standard hospital-issued faded sky blue scrubs. _Dr. C. J. Novak, MD, Lawrence Memorial Hospital_ was embroidered above the left breast pocket of his coat. He sported a multiple-day growth of stubble that wasn’t quite a full on beard yet, but fast approaching one and his dark hair was in desperate need of a comb. There were dark circles under his eyes. At first his attention was focused down on the chart in his hands. Then he raised his eyes to greet his patient. 

 

Dean was struck dumb at the penetrating blue gaze of his doctor. At first his brain wouldn’t stop flipping through the mental catalog of every blue thing he had ever seen in an attempt to find a description worthy of the doctor’s eyes. The sky was too light and the sea was too green; the Tardis was close, but still not quite right. He finally settled on blueberries. Dr. C. J. Novak, MD of Lawrence Memorial Hospital had eyes the color of blueberries, dusty light blue layered on top of blue so dark it was nearly black. 

 

“What’s up, doc?” _Real original, Winchester_ , he thought with a grimace that he hoped everybody else would pass off as caused by his pain rather than his dumb mouth. Benny snorted without looking up from filling out forms. 

 

Those blue eyes narrowed slightly as the man gave a small tilt of his head. He either didn’t understand the reference (which Dean highly doubted; seriously, who had never seen Bugs Bunny?) or was fighting to ignore it. Finally he sat down on the stool next to the bed and picked up Dean’s hand. The doctor's fingers were long and thin, almost delicate, but strong and confident as he assessed the injury. The skin of his hands was slightly dry, likely from constant hand washing and Purell use. 

 

“I’m Doctor Novak and I’ll be placing your stitches today,” he said in a deep, rumbly voice that turned Dean's insides to warm mush. With the doctor's gentle encouragement, he flexed his fingers to make sure there was no nerve damage. The other man didn't have much to say, but Dean would hazard a guess that he was running on little sleep after a very long shift. Dean recognized the focused, almost automatic way the physician moved. He’d had his fair share of long days on the job with little sleep. 

 

Jess came back carrying a sealed suture package, which she opened up and began to arrange on the overbed table for Dr. Novak as he pulled on a pair of gloves. 

 

When the doctor finally did speak again, it was to explain what it was he was about to do. "First, I'll spray a topical deadening agent to numb your skin before injecting the local anesthesia." 

 

The spray tingled unpleasantly for a few seconds before Dr. Novak lightly scraped his gloved thumbnail over an uninjured part of Dean's open palm. "Feel that?" 

 

"Nope." Dean shook his head. Normally, he wasn't a big fan of needles, but he found that even the sight of a syringe couldn't make him tear his eyes away from the motion of the doctor's hands. He couldn't even look away when the needle pierced his skin and Dr. Novak slowly pushed down on the plunger. 

 

After only a couple of seconds, the doctor rubbed a little harder on his palm, closer to the cut where there would be pain if the anesthetic had not kicked in yet. "Feel that?" the doctor repeated. 

 

"Nope." It was weird to see that his hand was being touched, but to not feel it. 

 

"Ok. Good. Now I'm going to start suturing." Dr. Novak took the curved needle threaded with a length of stiff black thread and with slow, precise movements he began to close the jagged wound with small tidy stitches. After tying off the second stitch, he lifted his eyes to his patient and gave him a small smile. "Breathe, Officer Winchester. I'd rather not have to pick you up off the floor." 

 

"Huh? Oh...yeah. Breathing is good." Dean's chest rose with a deep inhale. He hadn't even realized he was holding his breath. Watching Dr. Novak sewing him back up was strangely mesmerizing. His eyes kept flicking between the doctor’s hands and his face, sometimes getting lost and staring at his face for a few seconds longer than might have been polite. He just hoped the other man didn’t notice. 

 

Dr. Novak snipped the thread before moving on to stitch number three. When he was finished, a slightly skewed line of ten stitches crossed Dean's palm. With a piece of gauze soaked in antiseptic, he cleaned the residual blood from Dean's skin and wrapped his hand with a bandage. He picked up a capped syringe lying next to the suture tray. 

 

“I’m going to administer your tetanus booster and then Jess will get you ready for discharge,” Dr. Novak said as he lifted Dean’s shirt sleeve and wiped an alcohol pad against a spot on his bicep. 

 

Dean flexed a little when his muscular arm was bared, but he barely flinched as the doctor stuck in the needle and pulled it back out after a few seconds. Dr. Novak opened a drawer the storage unit next to the bed pulling out a black Band-Aid with tiny yellow bat-symbols all over. He placed the bandage over the site of the shot before turning and grabbing a red sucker from the glass container on top of the counter by the sink. 

 

Dean thought he caught a slight flush spread across the doctor’s cheeks as he handed him the candy. The corner of his mouth quirked up and he was just about to thank Dr. Novak until he caught sight of Jess struggling to contain her amusement with a hand over her mouth. Benny was just as bad, coughing roughly and trying to bury himself into the folder of paperwork. Dean sucked his teeth at them and swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

 

“Can we go now?” he asked Benny in an annoyed tone. 

 

“Sure thing, buddy. We can even stop for ice cream on the way back to work since you were such a good boy and didn’t cry.” Benny reached out to pat his head, but Dean ducked out the way. 

 

Dr. Novak’s attention had already turned back to the chart where he was scribbling a few last notes. Before he could leave the area, Jess piped up. “So, Benny, you and the girls are coming to the barbeque on Saturday, right? The pool will be ready if they want to bring their suits.” 

 

Benny chuckled. “Yeah, I’m bringin’ ‘em. They’ve been talkin’ about it non-stop all week.” 

 

“Great!” Jess’s gaze flickered between Dean and the doctor before she turned her attention to cleaning up the used suture kit. Nonchalantly, she said, “Hey, Dr. Novak, if you’re not busy this weekend, you’re welcome to come over. Dean makes a mean burger.” 

 

The doctor looked up as though considering the invitation. A tired smile brightened his face. “I’m on-call, but maybe I can walk over for a few minutes.” 

 

“You live in their neighborhood?” Dean asked as he fiddled with the end of the bandage on his left hand, ducking his head to hide how he happy he was that Jess invited the handsome doctor to their cookout. 

 

“Across the street, actually,” Dr. Novak replied clicking his pen and sliding in into his breast pocket. 

 

“Come over whenever you have a chance. There’s no set start or end time. We usually just hang out until the beer’s all gone and the grill’s gone cold.” Jess smiled brightly. 

 

“I’ll try to make it.” He stood up, leaving the chart on the counter and offered his ungloved hand out to Dean. “Jess will go over how to take care of your hand and what warning signs to look for. If you need anything, just give me a call.” 

 

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, Dr. Novak.” Dean stole one last look into the doctor's blue eyes as they shook hands. 

 

The doctor smiled again before slipping out of the curtained off area. Jess couldn’t help but grin at her brother-in-law when he stared at the doctor’s retreating backside until she started giving him his discharge instructions. She told him to stop by the house later in the evening so she could have a look at his hand and redo the bandage for him. The officers bid her goodbye and she practically flew to the lounge to type out a hasty text to Sam. 

 

_[Message sent to Moosechester at 14:40] invited novak to bbq!_

_[Message received from Moosechester at 14:43] ur not gonna play matchmaker_

_[Message sent to Moosechester at 14:45] they already met_

_[Message received from Moosechester at 14:46] how?_

_[Message sent to Moosechester at 14:47] dean in ED_

 

The phone buzzed, the screen announcing _Incoming Call from Moosechester_. 

 

“Hey – “ 

 

“Why is my brother in the emergency room?” came Sam’s panicked half-whisper. She must have caught him somewhere other than the car or his office. 

 

“He’s not anymore. I just discharged him. He cut his hand and needed a few stitches. He’s fine, babe. Really.” 

 

There was a massive sigh of relief on the other end of the phone. 

 

“But, seriously. I think there might be something between Dean and Dr. Novak.” 

 

Sam’s skepticism was obvious. “From one meeting over a busted hand?” 

 

“You know how your brother is over a paper cut. He was so enthralled that he didn’t bitch a single time. Not to mention Novak actually smiled at Dean and talked to him. ER docs don’t have great bedside manner, and he’s no exception. Does better with the unconscious patients than the ones with the sniffles or broken bones who can actually answer his questions.” 

 

Sam sighed again, but there wasn’t much relief in it. “Do you really want to deal with the fallout when something goes horribly wrong between Dean and one of your coworkers?” 

 

“They haven’t even gone on a date, and you’ve already skipped ahead to them breaking up?” 

 

“I know Dean.” 

 

“Yeah, well so do I, and it’s time he found the one.” 

 

Sam was quiet on the other end of the line. Jess was right. They were both hoping that Dean would settle down soon and stop the endless string of one-night stands that dominated his list of relationships for the past decade, though lately he was spending more time at Sam and Jess's house with their friends and less time at bars trolling for a hook-up. Maybe gaining Benny, who was married with kids, as a partner a year ago had been just what Dean needed to curb his wilder side. 

 

“Just don’t push too hard on either of them. If it’s not meant to be, then just walk away from it.” 

 

“We’ll see. Gotta go, love you” 

 

“Love you too.” 

 

“Bye, hot stuff!”


	2. Chapter 2

Saturday was picture perfect – brilliant blue early June sky, big fluffy clouds, warm sunshine, just enough breeze to keep the temperature bearable. Castiel stood at his front door looking longingly across the street at the Winchesters’ slate-grey two-story house. Normally he slept or piddled around the house doing this and that while he was on-call since he didn’t like to stray far from home or invest his time in anything that couldn’t be dropped at a moment’s notice, but today was just too nice to stay inside like a hermit. 

 

Most of his free time over the past few months had been spent sprawled on the couch in front of the TV with his Netflix subscription, a bowl of microwave kettle corn, and a Diet Dr. Pepper. He was all caught up on _Burn Notice_ , _Downton Abbey_ , _30 Rock_ , _Sherlock_ , _Arrested Development_ , _Lost_ , and _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ , and now he was a little starved for real-life company. His only face-to-face socializing came from stopping by the dive bar down the street from the hospital with his co-workers once or twice a week after their shift ended. So far, none of his co-workers had progressed beyond professional relationship to friendship. 

 

The closest thing he had to a work friend was Jess, though he figured she was just friendly to everybody and didn’t hold him in any special regard. Until, that is, she invited him to her party. He had quickly passed it off as being a courtesy invite since she mentioned it to her brother-in-law and his partner while he happened to be within earshot. But, then she reminded him about the party the next day when he was charting at the nurse’s station and had even sent him an email reminder last night. He supposed it would be rude not to acknowledge the invitation with at least a short appearance. Plus there was the very high chance of getting to see Jess's very handsome brother-in-law again. He could always fake a call from the hospital if things got too uncomfortable. 

 

Taking a deep breath, he double checked his jeans pockets for his cellphone and keys and headed across his lawn. There were only two cars parked in the driveway of the house across the street – a silver minivan with more bumper stickers than bumper showing and a huge, black, late model Chevy that looked like it just rolled off the showroom floor yesterday not 40 years ago. As he crossed over onto the other property, he could hear screams of childish delight coming from the backyard. A note on the front door said “Come to the back!” with the image of an old timey hand pointing to the left. Castiel followed the stone pathway around the left side of the house to the backyard. He rounded the corner of the house just in time to catch sight of a very large man in bright turquoise swim trunks cannonballing into the deep end of the pool. The two little girls sitting at the edge of the pool squealed as they were cascaded with water. 

 

“Dr. Novak!” Jess exclaimed happily as she skipped down the steps from the deck. “I’m glad you could come over.” 

 

“Hello, Jess. I’m not sure how long I can stay.” He gave her a warm smile. 

 

“Hopefully long enough for a beer and a burger.” She grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him further in the backyard to introduce him to everybody. He was surprised to see that the party was relatively small and he really hoped he wasn’t intruding on an intimate family gathering. Jess started pointing out people. “The creature from the blue lagoon over there is my husband, Sam.” 

 

Sam had resurfaced from his earlier jump into the pool and was terrorizing the two girls by shaking the water out of his long hair right next to them. 

 

Castiel recognized Benny as Jess pointed over to a pair of people on lounge chairs under an umbrella by the pool and then pointed to the girls being dragged into the water by Sam. “You've met Dean’s partner Benny Lafitte. That’s his wife Andrea and their daughters, Margaux and Elise.” 

 

A cool wet nose eagerly nudged up against Castiel’s hand. 

 

“This is Bones. He’s an attention whore,” she said with a fond grin as she tried to gently shove the golden retriever away. Luckily the backdoor opened drawing the dog’s attention away from the newcomer. Dean walked out carrying a platter of raw hamburger patties with his right hand and twirling a long handled spatula with his bandaged left hand. 

 

“Hey, look who made it!” Dean smiled when he caught sight of Castiel as he tried not to trip over the dog rushing around his legs. His voice carried across the yard to the others who looked back towards the house. 

 

“Everybody, this is Dr. –“ 

 

He leaned towards Jess, interrupting. “Castiel.” 

 

“Everybody, this is Castiel. He’s one of our attendings in the ED and he lives in the house across the street.” 

 

A chorus of “Hey!”, “Hi there!”, and “Hello!” came from the pool area. Castiel gave a little wave to the others before sticking his hands in his pockets, unsure of which direction to go now that he was there. 

 

Jess started edging away towards the pool. “Why don’t you keep Dean company? He can’t get in the water with that bandaged hand.” 

 

“Uh, sure.” Castiel glanced over to man slapping burger patties onto the hot sizzling grill. 

 

“There’s beer and soda in the cooler by the backdoor!” Jess called over her shoulder as she pulled off her coverall and hopped in the pool. 

 

Castiel jogged up the few steps to the deck and headed straight for the cooler. There were frosty long-neck bottles of El Sol and icy cans of Pepsi and Mountain Dew. He grabbed two beers, twisting off their tops as he walked over to the grill, and handed one to Dean. “Is this a special occasion?” 

 

Dean nodded his thanks as he took the drink and smiled. “Yeah, we’re christening this bad boy.” He gestured to the massive, stainless steel Weber gas grill he stood in front of. 

 

"Impressive.” Castiel watched Dean finish fiddling with the burgers before he was satisfied with their placement over the flames and closed the grill cover. After taking a swig of his beer, he gestured to the other man’s hand. “How’s the hand?” 

 

“Hasn’t fallen off yet, so I guess that’s a good sign, right?” Dean looked down at his left hand, still wrapped with a bandage, and flexed his fingers. 

 

“Yeah, that’s a good sign.” The doctor chuckled. “Do you encounter many violent dumpsters as a police officer?” 

 

“Thankfully, no,” Dean replied with a laugh. 

 

“Well, I’m glad we don’t have to worry about ferocious trash receptacles taking over the city. You smell much better than you did the last time I saw you, by the way.” Castiel had no idea what possessed him to say that out loud, but he might as well run with it. Either Dean would take it as flirting or general male ribbing. He nonchalantly gulped down another swallow of beer, waiting for the off-duty cop’s response. 

 

“Really?” Dean asked with a weird inflection at the end, almost like that of a teenager whose voice was still changing. “What do I smell like now?” 

 

Castiel leaned closer, maybe a little more than necessary, and made a show of giving Dean a thoughtful sniff, like he was wine, not a guy. “Grill smoke, dryer sheets, and Old Spice.” 

 

“Are you part bloodhound?” Dean raised a brow at him, but didn’t immediately duck back from Castiel’s invasion of his personal space. 

 

Castiel shook his head with a smile as walked over to one of the deck chairs to sit. Bones trotted along after him hopeful that his new friend would put his hands to good use. The doctor set his beer down on the short table next to the chair and turned his attention to the dog, lavishing his head and ears with a good scrub of his fingers. The dog’s expression was one of complete delight. “When you spend all day with some of the worst smells known to man, you learn how to pick out the good ones.” 

 

Dean flopped down in the chair next to his and reached over to give Bones a pat on the rump as he took a pull from his beer. “So, Cas, how long have you been at Lawrence Memorial?” 

 

"It’ll be a year in August.” Castiel leaned back in the chair, propping his left ankle up against his right knee. 

 

“You from around here?” 

 

Castiel shook his head. “I've been in Illinois for the past 10 years. I went to Northwestern for undergrad and medical school, did my residency at St. Joseph’s Mercy Hospital in Chicago.” 

 

“What brought you down to Kansas?” 

 

“Needed to get out from under the family shadow. Two of my older brothers are surgeons at University of Chicago Medical Center, one’s neuro and the other is cardiac. Lawrence is close enough that they don’t think I’m running away, but far enough that they can’t meddle.” 

 

Dean chuckled. 

 

“What about you?” Castiel was rather surprised at how easily he fell into conversation with Dean. Usually he hated small talk, though that could have something to do with the other party involved rather than the act itself. He was used to idle chitchat with other doctors at the hospital and at conferences who were all trying to one-up each other and assert their alpha-maleness – even the women. 

 

“Born and raised in Lawrence with no plans of leaving anytime soon. Went to KU. Joined the force right after graduation. I’m planning to take the detective exam next spring.” As Dean spoke and glanced over to the pool, Castiel took the opportunity to study the other man. Dean was relaxed, leaning back into the deck chair with the bottle of beer propped on his bent knee. Condensation ran down the bottle pooling in a dark ring on his jeans. Castiel couldn’t quite make up his mind on what looked better stretched across Dean’s broad shoulders – the faded Black Sabbath t-shirt he was currently wearing or his police uniform. 

 

“It must be nice to have roots.” 

 

“Move around a lot?” Dean looked back at him and Castiel’s eyes zipped over to the light colored smoke drifting up from the grill. 

 

He nodded. “My father was an Army doctor. I’ve lived in California, North Carolina, Virginia, Texas, and Germany.” 

 

“Wow. Do you speak German?” Dean leaned to the left, towards Castiel, clearly interested in the conversation and the company. 

 

Castiel smiled, but shook his head. “Not anymore. I was born in Stuttgart, but we moved back to the States right before I started school. Apparently, I nearly failed kindergarten because I spoke a weird mix of English and German and my teacher had no idea what I was saying half the time.” 

 

Dean chuckled and his eyes crinkled up at the corners. 

 

“So, Sam’s your brother?” Castiel tipped back his beer trying to divert his attention from Dean’s freckles, his adorable crow’s feet, his pink lips. If he didn’t watch himself, he’d get caught staring at the other man like a star-struck teenager. 

 

“Yep. My gigantic little brother.” Dean rolled his eyes, but his smile remained. “He ran off to Stanford for six years, planning to never return to Kansas. Luckily for him, he fell in love with a Missouri-native and she dragged his ass back home.” 

 

“He’s a lawyer, right?” Castiel could hear the love and pride in Dean’s voice and see the way his green eyes lit up when he spoke about his brother. It was almost as though he was speaking of his own child, rather than a sibling. Castiel doubted any of his brothers looked like that when they talked about him. 

 

“Yep. He’s an associate at Dwyer and Wyatt in Topeka, handles mostly family law right now. I think he eventually wants to work for the DA’s office, go after the bad guys.” 

 

“And, then you’d have your own version of Winchester _Law and Order_.” 

 

Dean laughed and the sound made Castiel’s heart seize up with a happy squeeze. “Hadn’t thought of it that way before. _The police, who investigate crime, and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders_. We just need a medical examiner in the family and then we can have our own reality show.” 

 

“Do you have any other family in the area?” 

 

Dean’s face softened slightly as he shook his head. His gaze fell to his beer and he picked at the corner of the label with his thumbnail. “It’s just me and Sam.” 

 

Castiel understood the implication. “I’m sorry.” 

 

"Nah, don’t be. We’ve got plenty of people around who have claimed us as family.” Dean set his empty bottle down on the table between their chairs before pushing himself up to go check on the burgers. Castiel figured he had inadvertently killed their conversation until Dean continued. “In fact, you’ve managed to stop in during one of our smallest get-togethers. Usually we’ve got cars lining the cul de sac.” 

 

“I wondered what was going on with all the cars parked out front a few weeks ago.” Castiel stood up taking his beer over to the deck rail to look over the back yard. The Lafitte girls were taking turns standing on Sam’s shoulders and jumping into the water. Jess was sitting on the edge of the pool with Andrea talking and laughing, and Benny was still in his lounge chair with his hat pulled down over his face. Castiel suspected he was asleep. Turning back around, he noticed Dean frowning down at the grill. “Something wrong?” 

 

“I may have overestimated the amount of burgers.” 

 

“Is there really such a thing as _too many burgers_?” Castiel leaned over to take a look at the spread of meat on the grill. 

 

“Well, there are only 8 of us today. I’m used to cooking for…” He started counting off on his fingers and naming people. “Me, Sammy, Jess, Benny, Andrea, and the girls....that’s seven. Then Bobby, Ellen, Jo, and Ash…eleven. Charlie and Gilda, Jim, Garth, Rufus, Chuck and Becky, Linda, Kevin and Channing. Sometimes Jess’s parents and sisters. One Christmas we had almost 30 people over at Bobby’s house.” 

 

“Wow. Do you do this sort of thing regularly?” 

 

“Couple of times a month the whole group just sorta converges on somebody’s house. We're usually here during the summer, since Sam and Jess have the pool. Sometimes Ellen puts the private party sign on the Roadhouse door and we hang out there.” 

 

“The Roadhouse? Near the hospital?” 

 

“Yep.” Dean started to flip the burgers. 

 

“I’ve been there! Very good burgers.” 

 

“Best burger in Lawrence. Well, best burger available to the public.” Dean said with a grin as he gestured to the juicy, sizzling patties on the grill. 

 

The smell of meaty smoke was heavy in the air. Castiel turned to lean back against the railing, glancing around the deck and over the back of Sam and Jess’s house. It was a big house with a big fenced-in backyard, obviously chosen for its ability to host large parties. He hoped he could come back to enjoy the easy camaraderie he had already found in Dean. 

 

“You’re welcome to come over whenever you see the driveway full, you know,” Dean said after he closed the grill cover. “The more the merrier.” 

 

“I’d hate to impose.” It was like Dean could read his mind. 

 

“Dude, what’s one more when there are usually at least a dozen of us? Isn’t that right, Jess?” 

 

“What?” Jess had jogged up the deck wrapped in her beach towel, blonde hair dripping around her shoulders. Andrea and the girls followed not too far behind. 

 

“Cas is welcome over anytime.” 

 

“Sure!” She said with a sunny smile and turned to Castiel. “If I had known you’d be interested, I would have invited you over months ago.” 

 

“Oh, well. Um…” He was at a loss for words over being suddenly welcomed into what seemed to be a close-knit group of people who genuinely liked each other. His family had been very insular when he was younger; it was easier to not bother making friends than to make them and then leave them soon after. His siblings, especially his three eldest brothers, were constantly competing for their parents’ attention and affection. He had caught a glimpse of what he had been missing all of his life while he was in college when he bonded with his pre-med classmates. But after graduation, they all dispersed across the country for med school and none of them kept up with each other except through random updates posted to Facebook. Med school itself had been almost as cutthroat as growing up in the Novak household, so he didn’t forge any lasting relationships there either. Moving to Lawrence was his chance to do what he wanted to do without being constantly compared to his wildly successful older brothers. 

 

When he realized Jess and Dean were both looking at him expectantly, he smiled and nodded. “Thanks.” 

 

Just like that, Castiel was accepted as a member of the pack. He quickly realized that Sam and Dean were the heart of the group; everybody had a direct connection to either one or both of the brothers. It didn’t take him long to meet everybody and learn how they all knew each other. 

 

Bobby Singer was Sam’s and Dean’s uncle and owned Singer Auto Salvage and Garage in Lawrence. He had been married to their mom’s older sister, Karen. Bobby and Karen raised the boys after Mary died in a house fire when Dean was 4 and Sam was 6 months old. Their dad, John, traveled extensively as a bounty hunter and wanted the boys to have a stable home. Bobby and Karen adopted the boys after their father was killed in a car accident eight years later. When Dean was 14 and Sam was 10, their Aunt Karen died of ovarian cancer. Tragedy seemed to be the theme of the young Winchesters’ lives. 

 

Ellen Harvelle and her daughter Jo were longtime friends of the Singers and Winchesters. Jo was a year younger than Sam and had always been like a little sister to the Winchester boys (though Castiel suspected Jo had harbored a big crush on Dean for a long time when they were younger). Bill Harvelle, Ellen’s first husband and Jo’s dad, had been a volunteer fireman and drowned during a swift-water rescue when Jo was 7. Ellen and Bobby got married during Jo’s freshman year of college. Ellen and Jo ran the Roadhouse. Ash Lindberg was Jo’s boyfriend and a computer genius. 

 

Charlie Bradbury was Dean’s best friend from college and the person who brought out his inner geek (Sam told Castiel not to feel bad if he couldn’t understand half of what Charlie and Dean talked about, nobody else could either). She and Ash ran an IT consulting business together. Gilda Fay was Charlie’s wife and worked for the mayor's office. She was also on a roller derby team and skated under the moniker _Crimson Bride_. 

 

Kevin Tran was Sam’s best friend growing up. He graduated from the University of Michigan and was a research chemist at Roman Pharmaceuticals in Kansas City. His mother, Linda, was a real estate agent and sold Castiel his house. His girlfriend, Channing Ngo, taught biology at Lawrence Central High School. 

 

Chuck Shurley and Garth Fitzgerald IV went to high school with Dean, and the three of them shared an apartment while they were undergrads at KU. Chuck was chief editor for the _Daily Lawrence_ , wrote supernatural thrillers in his spare time, and was dating Becky Rosen, one of the administrative clerks at the Lawrence Police Department. Garth was a pediatric dentist with his own office in town and was a notorious hugger. 

 

Rufus Turner and Jim Murphy were close friends of the Singers, Harvelles, and Winchesters. Rufus was the retired captain of the Lawrence Police Department and Jim was the pastor at St. Andrew's Episcopalian Church. They could be found warming seats at the Roadhouse’s bar nearly every night swapping stories about Vietnam and gossiping about half the town like two little old biddies. 

 

Benny Lafitte was, of course, Dean’s partner on the police force. He and his family were originally from New Orleans, but relocated after Hurricane Katrina. Andrea had been a stay-at-home mom until their youngest daughter started school, and then she opened a French bakery with her sister in Lawrence (they had the best beignets Castiel had ever tasted). Their daughters Margaux and Elise were 9 and 6, respectively. 

 

On Tuesdays after work, the gang met at the Roadhouse for dinner, drinks, and endless rounds of pool and poker. Castiel learned really fast that Jo was a shark and to never ever play her for money no matter how sweet and innocent she looked. Thursday nights were game nights where the younger members of the group played _Battlefield_ or _Guild Wars 2_ online together or headed over to Charlie’s basement to play tabletop games. One night Charlie dug out an ancient Nintendo and they all played drunk _Duck Hunt_ – it was hilarious. Over the hot summer, the Winchester house was the hub of activity all day every Saturday with swimming and burgers. 

 

It didn’t take long for Castiel to feel like he’d been part of the group for years instead of just a few weeks. He got along well with everybody and found himself eagerly looking forward to the next Roadhouse dinner, the next game night, the next party. On top of his good luck in finding a new group of friends, he discovered that one person was quickly becoming his special favorite.


	3. Chapter 3

On the Saturday of Labor Day weekend, there was a big end-of-summer party at the Sam and Jess’s, and Castiel had to work. Being the newest doctor on the unit meant being the low man on the scheduling totem pole and automatically having to work all of the major holidays. He had already missed out on the 4th of July barbeque at the Singers' place, though Dean did bring him half a sheet cake and a box of sparklers the next day. For the week leading up to the cook out, Jess repeatedly assured him that he could stop by whenever he got off work, even if it was late. 

 

As with all holidays, the ED was packed with more emergencies than a normal Saturday. An 8-year-old kid very nearly drowned in a pool. Some guy earned himself third degree burns when he tumbled into a fire pit. Grandma stumbled down the deck stairs at her grandkids’ house and broke her hip. Two teenagers were dropped off in the ambulance bay with suspected alcohol poisoning. Some dumbass nearly blew his hand off when the firecracker he was holding exploded prematurely. A couple of cousins got into a brawl over a guy; one was missing a rather large patch of hair that had been ripped from her scalp and the other had a two fake fingernails imbedded in her cheek. 

 

Just when the holiday induced catastrophes seemed to be winding down and Castiel had hopes of actually getting off on time, there was a major multi-vehicle accident on the highway involving four cars, a semi-truck, and a van full of kids on the way home from a church barbeque. Twenty people from the wreck were brought into the ED. Most of them had only minor cuts and bruises, but four people were in serious condition and two were in critical condition on arrival. 

 

By the time Castiel finally stood in front of his locker in the lounge after showering and changing into his street clothes, it was nearly midnight. He pulled out his cellphone and thumbed through the list of missed calls and unanswered texts. 

 

_[Message received from Jess Winchester at 23:17] still expectin u to show up :)_

_[Message received from Jess Winchester at 23:18] saved u some ribs_

_[Message received from Jess Winchester at 23:19] and pie!_

_[Message received from Jess Winchester at 23:21] last message was from dean, he has an unhealthy addiction to pie_

_[Message received from Jess Winchester at 23:25] says if u don’t come eat it, he will_

 

Castiel laughed tiredly to himself. He very much wanted to drag himself home and crash in bed, but he didn’t want to completely miss out on another holiday with his newfound friends. With a quick tap of thumbs, he replied back to Jess. 

 

_[Message sent to Jess Winchester at 23:48] on my way, tell dean to stay away from my pie_

_[Message received from Jess Winchester at 23:49] roger!_

 

~~~~~ 

 

Dean stood at the front door staring out into the street. The porch light pushed back the darkness creeping towards the house from the yard. The street lamps made the sidewalk glow like a silver ribbon wrapping around the cul-de-sac. The Impala was parked in the driveway across the street. Once Cas had been included in the group, he graciously allowed them to use his driveway as an extra spot for people to park during parties to free up space on the street. He called out over his shoulder, “You sure he’s coming?” 

 

“Yeah, don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Jess bent over in front of the open fridge trying to arrange the containers of leftovers so they would all fit on the shelves. She shut the door and it bounced open again. “Hmm. We either need a bungee cord or somebody’s going to have to eat this massive tub of potato salad before we go to bed.” 

 

Sam came into the kitchen from the side door dusting off his hands. “There’s still room in the garage fridge.” 

 

“Here.” She pulled out the bulky container handing it and several other containers to her husband before going back to her real life game of Tetris in the icebox. Sam headed back out, stack of Tupperware in hand. 

 

“Should I go look for him? What if he fell asleep at the wheel and ended up in a ditch?” Cas’s shift at the hospital had started at 7am that morning and it was now after midnight. The man had to be exhausted after sixteen-plus hours in the emergency department. He knew firsthand how crazy people got during holidays. He had been on scene for many a car accident caused when somebody decided to drive after celebrating a little too hard. Nothing ruined a holiday quite like calling up a mom at 3am to let her know her kid was in the ER and they didn’t know if he was going to make it. 

 

“It hasn’t even been 20 minutes since his last text. He probably still had to finish charting and change.” Jess attempted to close the fridge door again and clapped when it finally stayed shut. 

 

Dean was itching to see Cas. All day he had kept an eye out for him, expecting the doctor to suddenly appear, hovering close to his side as usual. The party just hadn’t been the same without Cas. Charlie accused him of pining for the other man. So maybe he missed Cas more than a little bit. Especially since he’d gotten called in at the last minute on game night to fill in for Lee Chambers’s partner on second shift and missed playing _Risk_ with everybody at Charlie’s house; according to Chuck, Cas was a scary good strategist and they should never ever play _Risk_ again unless they wanted to be absolutely annihilated by the doctor. 

 

Jess walked over to stand at the front door with Dean. “I think you should ask him out.” 

 

He didn’t immediately respond. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before. But Dean Winchester didn’t date. Dean Winchester picked up guys at bars. Dean Winchester swapped hand jobs in seedy bathrooms and blow jobs in damp alleys, screwed nameless guys in the back of their cars (never in the Impala…his Baby was too sacred for an anonymous fuck), went back to some dude’s apartment for a 12-hour sex marathon. Or at least, that’s what the old Dean Winchester did. He hadn’t had a random hook up in over a year; the last one had left him so unsatisfied that the only bar stool he had warmed since then was at the Roadhouse where Ellen had implemented a strict _No Trolling_ policy after she caught him out back on his knees with some guy’s dick shoved down his throat when he was nineteen. 

 

Surprisingly enough, he didn’t really miss sex. Well, he missed physical aspect of it. But he didn’t miss having to pretend that he liked someone for the ten minutes it took both of them to come and tuck themselves back in their pants, didn’t miss the down and dirty quickness of a hook up, didn’t miss how impersonal it was. He still flirted with anything that moved, that was just part of his personality that he couldn’t change, but he didn’t do it with the intention of getting in somebody’s pants anymore. 

 

Cas was so different from the guys Dean had been with. He was actually genuinely interested in Dean, and Dean found that he was equally interested in Cas. He felt a strange possessiveness whenever somebody else dominated the doctor’s attention for too long. Sometimes he wanted everybody else to disappear so it could be just him and Cas, alone. Hell, he even started helping with the dishes after Saturday BBQs solely because Cas had taken on the chore of washing them all by himself (Cas claimed he couldn’t cook anything more gourmet than boxed mac and cheese and insisted that cleaning up was the best way he could contribute to the party) and it was the one time where they could stand shoulder to shoulder in an intimate little bubble of combined personal space without anybody butting in. 

 

Maybe it was time that he took a chance. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glanced down at his sister-in-law. “You think he’d say yes?” 

 

She shrugged. “You won’t know until you ask him. Now, c’mon and help us put away the rest of the stuff.” 

 

Just as Jess attempted to pull him away from the door, Dean noticed a car coming down the street. Grinning, he headed out on to the porch as Cas’s gray BMW pulled into the driveway next to the Impala. Cas climbed out of his car, hurried across the road and through the Winchesters’ yard. He smiled tiredly as Dean pounded him gently on the shoulder and ushered him into the house. 

 

“Hey, man! We missed you today!" He couldn’t help the wide, happy smile that nearly split his face all because Cas was finally there. 

 

“I’m sorry I missed everybody,” Castiel said as he looked around the empty living room and kitchen. Bones trotted up to his side to lick his hand in greeting and receive a pat in return before heading right back to his dog bed and promptly falling asleep. The LaFitte girls had worn the poor canine down. 

 

“Lightweights. Couldn’t stay out past 11.” Dean led him into the kitchen and pulled out a chair at the table, which was still laden with platters of cookies, bowls of chips and pretzels, plates of half-eaten pies, and a tray of brownies. 

 

"Hey, Cas!" Jess grinned in his direction as she pulled clean dishes from the dishwasher and started putting them away in the cabinets and drawers. She wiped her hands on a towel before walking over to the oven. 

 

“Hey, Castiel,” Sam said smiling as he came back into the kitchen from the garage. 

 

"Hello, Jess, Sam," he said with a tired smile as he flopped down into the chair and grabbed one of the double chocolate cookies he was pretty sure came from Andrea’s bakery. "I'm starving," he said, taking a big bite of out of the cookie. "Last thing I had to eat was a bag of peanuts from the vending machine hours ago. Somebody promised me ribs if I showed up." 

 

“Right here!” Jess pulled a foil pan with a half-rack’s worth of beef ribs from the oven and placed it on the table in front of him. “Been keeping them warm just for you.” 

 

He picked up a rib and a drop of thick barbeque sauce immediately landed in the middle of his navy blue t-shirt. “Maybe I should have kept my scrubs on," he said ruefully looking down at his chest. 

 

“Happens to the best of us.” Dean laughed, handing him a napkin. He turned to the fridge and pulled out a plate of food that Jess had put away earlier just for Castiel. The doctor looked up with interest as he pulled off the plastic wrap revealing baked beans, potato salad, cole slaw, and pasta salad. Dean plundered through a drawer looking for a fork. “Busy day?” 

 

He just nodded through a mouthful of barbequed beef. Work was the last thing he wanted to think about at the moment. He was ready to fall asleep face first into his dinner, but he forced himself to remain upright and to keep chewing. Castiel wiped his mouth with the napkin before picking up the fork and attacking the plate of cold food. "How'd you get out of work today?" 

 

"Working the Thanksgiving and Christmas parades, Black Friday, and Christmas Eve." Dean pinched off a bit of pie crust, tossing it in his mouth before going back to the fridge. "Want a beer?" 

 

"No, thanks. I haven't had enough to eat today. Don’t think I could handle even one beer and I'm sure Jess and Sam don't want me to crash on their couch," he replied shaking his head. Dean tossed him a Coke instead. 

 

"Nah, they wouldn't mind. Their couch is the perfect crash couch. I should know." He cracked open a soda for himself before rejoining Castiel at the table while he ate dinner. Sam and Jess cleaned up in the background. Everybody seemed to be fading fast after a long day. Castiel was nursing a slice of blackberry pie covered with whipped cream when Dean spoke up again. "So, any plans for tomorrow?" 

 

As if on cue, Jess turned to her husband. "Sam, can you help me with the thing upstairs?" 

 

"What thing?" Sam gave her a quizzical look as he finished putting the second load of dirty dishes in the dishwasher. 

 

"You know…the thing. Upstairs." She grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him upstairs. 

 

Castiel watched Sam and Jess leave the kitchen, furrowing a brow at their sudden exit. "I have tomorrow off." 

 

"Me too. You wanna do something?" A faint blush rose up on Dean's cheeks and he seemed suddenly very interested in the label on the back of his soda can. 

 

Castiel pushed away the rest of his pie, too stuffed to even worry about wasting the dollop of filling and sliver of crust left. "What did you have in mind?" 

 

"Dinner and a movie?" 

 

"Are you asking me out on a date?" he asked teasingly with a raised brow. 

 

"Yeah," he replied with a shy, sincere smile, leaning forward just a bit and looking up to meet Castiel's eyes. 

 

Castiel blinked. It took him a moment to realize that Dean was serious, looking at him with hope sparkling in his green eyes. Castiel had been teetering on the edge for weeks, skirting along the cliff of falling head over heels for Dean Winchester. Somehow they always found themselves gravitating towards each other whenever the gang got together. They ended up stuffed into the same side of the booth at the Roadhouse and paired off together whenever somebody dragged out a board game or cards. There were the little touches to one another's shoulders or knees that lingered just a fraction of a second longer than casual, though nobody else seemed to really notice. But, Castiel held back, telling himself that theirs was nothing more than a growing friendship. He was content to be Dean's friend, even if he sometimes wondered what it would be like to be something more. As the seconds ticked by without a response from Castiel, the sparkle in Dean's eyes started to fade. 

 

"Oh...um. I just thought...shit." Dean stammered as he pushed away from the table to stand. 

 

Castiel's hand shot out, long fingers wrapping around Dean's wrist, stopping him from leaving. The pad of his thumb rubbed gently over Dean's pulse point. He offered up soft smile. "I'd love to go out with you, Dean." 

 

The smile that spread across Dean's face was dazzling. Castiel's own smile widened as Dean relaxed back into the chair and blew out a relieved breath. "Great. That's just...great." 

 

"What movie did you have in mind?" Castiel didn't plan to let go of Dean's hand until Dean pulled away, and he was very thankful that either Dean didn't notice he still held his hand or was enjoying the touch as much as Castiel was. 

 

"The Royal Theater is having a Scorsese marathon tomorrow. Thought about going to see _The Departed_ or _Gangs of New York_." The nervousness from just a few seconds ago faded away instantly. 

 

"Are you a Scorsese fan or a Leo fan?" Castiel asked with a smirk. 

 

"Leo's a damn fine actor who is underappreciated by the academy," Dean replied defensively. 

 

"Mmhmm. And, he's a damn fine actor to look at," he quipped. 

 

"Not denying that fact." Dean grinned and stared down at where Castiel's fingers were still loosely circling his wrist. He moved his hand, but only so much to bring their palms together. Dean's middle finger ran up and down the thin skin at the inside of Castiel's wrist, tracing over the blue branches of his veins. 

 

"And dinner?" Castiel's eyes dropped down to their hands as well. He felt his palm heat up from the contact. 

 

Dean shrugged. "I usually hit the pizza place next to the theater after a movie." 

 

For most people it would be an unimpressive first date, but Castiel didn't care. Castiel didn't need Dean to impress him; he was already impressed with what he knew about Dean. He was going to spend time with Dean, not Dean and everybody else, just Dean. He could have Dean all to himself for a few hours. The thought both thrilled and terrified him. What if Dean thought he was boring all on his own without their friends around to distract him? Castiel didn’t think he was that great of a conversationalist, preferring to listen to other people’s stories, thinking they always had more interesting things to say than he did. Of course, talking to Dean had always been easy. He could be telling the most mundane story about digging splinters out of somebody’s hand or writing yet another prescription for erythromycin for some college kid with chlamydia (truthfully, emergency medicine was exciting only about 10% of time) and Dean would lean in like he was telling some far out adventure. 

 

When Sam came downstairs and caught them holding hands over the kitchen table, he just grinned and walked over to the fridge, pulling out orange juice and taking a drink straight from the carton. "You guys are welcome to stay as long as you'd like, but us married grown-ups are going to bed. Just lock up on your way out." 

 

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, we're both older than you." 

 

Castiel glanced over to the clock on the microwave. It was after one o'clock in the morning and he had been up for nearly 20 hours with no break. He couldn’t even remember if he’d managed to make it to the bathroom more than twice while he was at work. Exhaustion crashed over him like a wave. "I really should head home." 

 

"Come over for lunch tomorrow and help us eat all the leftovers," Sam offered as he walked Castiel and his brother to front door. They said their goodnights on the porch before Dean and Castiel headed across the street. 

 

"Can I walk you to your front door?" Dean asked as they both stepped up on the curb and onto the sidewalk in front of Castiel's house. 

 

Grinning, the doctor nodded. "I forgot to turn on the light when I left this morning. Who knows what's hiding behind the potted plant. You’ve already proven yourself worthy against rogue dumpsters, so I’m sure you could save me from a porch monster.” 

 

Dean laughed. Castiel loved the sound of Dean’s laugh, especially when he was the one who caused it. They walked single file along the narrow strip of concrete between Castiel's car and the grass to the stone walkway leading up to the front porch. As Castiel fumbled with his keys, Dean took his free hand, giving it a squeeze to pull his attention away from unlocking the front door. 

 

"Pick you up at 6:30?" Dean asked. 

 

Castiel nodded with a sleepy smile, squeezing his hand back. "Goodnight, Dean." 

 

"Night, Cas." Dean leaned in for a quick peck to Castiel’s cheek before leaving the porch and walking over to the Impala illuminated by a puddle of silver light from the street lamp. The big car's engine rumbled to life, sounding twice as loud in the still night. 

 

Castiel stood in the darkened doorway watching Dean back the car out of the driveway and turn her down the road. Dean lifted his hand out the open window, waving and smiling as he drove away. 

 

~~~~~ 

 

The next morning Castiel woke to his phone buzzing on his bedside table. 

 

_[Message received from Dean Winchester at 08:34] see u at 6:30 ;)_

 

It hadn't been a dream. With a happy smile, Castiel curled back up around one of his pillows to dream away the rest of the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean sat on the couch in his living room punching the ever loving shit out of the X button on his PlayStation controller. "Oh c'mon, asshole!" 

Charlie was the only other person from their usual online group signed in at the moment, so they were stuck playing _Battlefield_ with a team of newbs who had no idea what the objective of this particular map was. There was one sniper on the opposing team who was royally pissing him off. It didn't seem to matter where Dean was on the map, that guy found him and killed him, usually from a totally unrealistic distance or direction. The dickwad had even managed to shoot him through a damn wall. 

"Maybe he has some weird stalker-internet crush on you,” came Charlie's cool voice over the headset. 

"He's got a fuckin' cheat mod. There's no way he can headshot me every single time. I haven't seen him hit anybody else." 

"He got me once." 

"That's only because you were standing right next to me." 

They played in silence for several minutes as Dean worked his way across the map from the spawn point towards the flag in an attempt to take a checkpoint back from the other team. 

"Found him! Takin' him out!" Charlie said, preparing to give the other player a little payback. 

Dean watched Charlie lay down fire on the radio antenna from a gunship in the distance. Looking up to the clock on the cable box, he cursed. It was already 5 o’clock and he still had to take a shower. "I gotta go, Charlie." 

"Are you gonna be around for the raid tonight? We're gonna hit Citadel of Flame again. I almost have enough Charr Carvings to finish buying the rest of my armor." 

"Rain check. I've got a date tonight." 

"Did you finally ask Castiel out?" she asked matter-of-factly. 

Dean felt his cheeks heat up, but didn’t answer as he ran down an enemy player launching a last minute, solo attack on the checkpoint. Somewhere across the map, the enemy team got the last kill and the game ended. 

“You did! Didn’t you?!” she shrieked over the line. 

Dean winced. “Jesus, Charlie. You’re worse than Jess with the girly squeal. Yes, I asked Cas out.” 

“Spill the details, Winchester,” Charlie demanded. 

He sighed and watched the end-match screen. He came in second to Charlie in individual points, but their sucky team lost, big surprise. “We’re going to the Royal to see whatever’s playing and then having dinner at Mario’s.” 

“Dinner and a movie? Isn’t that kinda cliché?” 

“It’s traditional. Isn’t that sorta thing supposed to be…I dunno…romantic?” 

“Going for romance already, Cassanova?” 

“It’s not like that...well, not yet…maybe,” he stammered. 

She just chuckled. “Oh, c’mon, Dean. I have to take the mickey out of you. It’s a best friend’s prerogative. Besides, you haven’t had a real date in…how long? Ever?” 

“You know damn well I dated in college.” 

“Hooking up with a different person every weekend isn’t exactly dating,” Charlie scoffed. “Real dates are ones that have a potential to go beyond the first date.” 

“You think this’ll go beyond the first date?” Dean couldn’t keep the hopefulness out of his voice. 

“You two scream star-crossed lovers. I bet the two of you meet up somehow in every reincarnation, every dimension, every time line, and every alternate universe out there. Sometimes it’s love at first sight, sometimes it’s a slow burn, sometimes you even start out hating each other and get together over some really hot rage sex! It’s fate! Destiny! Kismet!” 

Dean rolled his eyes at her excited enthusiasm. “You’ve seriously got to lay off the Doctor Who fanfiction, missy.” 

"There's nothing wrong with having a perfectly healthy obsession with reading…even if it is mostly porn without a plot. Quite a bit of it is really good quality stuff. Loads better than _Fifty Shades of Crap_.” 

Dean snorted. “Alright, your majesty. I gotta go get ready.” 

“Good luck! Do you think he’ll put out on the first date?” 

“Charlie!” Dean squawked and hastily left the game, disconnecting chat, before she could go very far down that particular path. Of course, Charlie’s parting words got his downstairs brain thinking about blue eyes looking up at him and warm pink lips wrapped around his dick. This was not helping his decision to go slow with Cas. “Christ, Charlie,” he muttered to himself as he leapt up from the couch and stalked off to the bathroom trying to decide if he had time to rub one off or if he should just endure a cold shower instead. 

~~~~~ 

Castiel stood in front of the full-length mirror, looking at his reflection with his head tilted to the right. Shortly after he started socializing again, he had dug the mirror out from the pile of boxes in the basement and hung it on the back of his bedroom door. He hadn’t really cared too much about his appearance when he first moved to Lawrence since going out really only meant going to work and changing into scrubs, and then maybe running by the grocery store on his way home. He’d stopped by a bar after work with co-workers a handful of times, but the dress code for happy hour was never all that high and by that point of his day, he was just happy to be wearing clothes that weren’t covered in blood or vomit. 

He supposed being mostly apathetic about his appearance was just an aftereffect of living in ratty jeans and comfortable t-shirts all through college and wearing scrubs all through med school and his residency. It also could be lingering rebellion from 13 years of stiff Catholic school uniforms. But now that he was regularly seen in the company of people who weren’t in scrubs or hospital gowns, he figured he needed to put some effort into looking like a normal, civilized 30-something-year-old guy. 

His new friends weren’t exactly trend setters when it came to fashion, so Castiel didn’t have to work too hard to fit in as far as clothes were concerned. Jeans and t-shirts were still perfectly appropriate articles of clothing, only now his t-shirts weren’t nearly see-through with wear and his jeans didn’t have holes in the knees and half-torn off cuffs. When he spent money on clothes, he bought quality pieces that would last. Luckily, being a guy meant blue, black, tan, and gray were always in style, no matter what season or year it was. 

Kansas in September wasn’t exactly the best setting for getting all dressed up for a date. It was still over 80 degrees outside and most smart looking outfits had the potential to be uncomfortably hot even in an air conditioned movie theater. Castiel didn’t want to overdress, but he wanted to make more effort than throwing a t-shirt on over his swim trunks to walk across the street for the usual Saturday cookout. He finally settled on a light gray button-down shirt tucked into dark, slim fitting dark blue jeans (not skinny jeans…dear god what a travesty) with a brown belt. It was too hot for a jacket or even a vest, and he seriously doubted that the red and blue striped tie hanging from the fingers of his right hand was a good idea. Ultimately, he tossed the tie back on his dresser. 

He had managed to tame his hair, but the longer he looked at himself in the mirror the more he looked like somebody’s dad rather than a guy some other guy might want to see naked later. He snorted a laugh at the thought as he ran his fingers through his dark locks to muss them up just enough to look casual without appearing too disheveled. He had shaved after he woke up shortly before noon, and his face was still mostly smooth, though he could never completely get away from a perpetual five o’clock shadow. 

A glance to the alarm clock by the bed showed that it was just a few minutes past six o’clock. Dean would be there soon to pick him up. Castiel grabbed his cell phone and wallet, stuffing them in his pockets and fastened his leather watch to his left wrist as he walked downstairs to wait. He caught his reflection in the small mirror by the door and hoped he looked decent enough for a date with Dean. 

He had only ever dated two people in his whole life, well semi-seriously anyway. When he was in high school in California, he went out with a guy named Inias for almost a year and a half, but they parted ways when Castiel moved to Illinois to go to Northwestern. In college he dated one of his fellow pre-med students. Though, he wasn’t sure if it could technically be called _dating_ ; their relationship was probably better classified as _study buddies with benefits_. 

His cellphone vibrated against his leg. For one heart-stopping moment, he was scared it was Dean calling off their date, but when pulled the phone out of his pocket he saw that it was Gabriel. His older brother was the black sheep of the family. He was a doctor, like nearly every other Novak. But instead of going into a family-approved, upstanding medical field like cardiac medicine or neurosurgery where he could save lives, he was a plastic surgeon with his own clinic out on the west coast, wining and dining with a long list of celebrity clients. Castiel was the only sibling privy to Gabriel’s softer side and knew that his older brother’s annual month-long vacation down to Rio was a cover for his work with Operation Smile. 

Castiel flicked his thumb over the screen before bringing it up to his ear. “Hello, Gabriel.” 

“Hey, lil bro! How’re you doing? Haven’t heard from you at all this summer. Just checking in to make sure you some tornado hasn’t picked you up and carried you off to Oz.” 

“I’m fine. I’ve just been busy.” He wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water. 

“Busy? Spending all your time at the hospital again?” Castiel could hear the muffled noises of what seemed to be a casino in the background. 

“No,” he replied petulantly after taking a sip of tap water. “I have friends.” 

“Be still my heart! My little brother has found companions!” 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Is there a reason why you called?” 

“I can’t just call and shoot the breeze with my favorite brother?” 

“I thought Samandriel was your favorite.” 

“That was only when he was still young and impressionable. Alfie’s too busy wandering all over Canada this summer. I’m not even sure Canada has cell phone coverage.” 

“It’s not completely wilderness, plus doesn’t he have a satellite phone?” 

“Maybe so. But, anyway, I just wanted to talk to you!” he crooned into the phone. 

“Uh huh,” Castiel responded, disbelievingly. Gabriel’s out-of-the-blue calls always came with an ulterior motive. 

“Ok,” he confessed suddenly a bit sullen. “I’m sitting here in a casino in Vegas all alone at a horrible conference and I just wanted to hear a familiar voice.” 

“Don’t you usually take Kali with you to those things?” Castiel didn’t believe his brother could actually get bored in Las Vegas. Sin City was basically Gabriel’s dream destination – sexy ladies, all-you-can-eat buffets every ten feet, legally walking down the street with a neon colored alcoholic beverage, glitz and excitement dripping off of every seedy surface. 

“We um…we’re…” Gabriel sighed. “We’re taking a break right now. She flew back to London to see her mom and dad.” 

Honestly, Castiel wasn’t surprised. Kali had been Gabriel’s girlfriend for years and by now she was surely expecting some sort of long-term commitment from him in the form of a big fat rock for the third finger on her left hand. Not that she was a shallow person or a gold digger; she was a very successful dermatologist in her own right and certainly wasn’t after Gabriel for his money. But an engagement was the least any girl who’d been with Gabriel for so long would want. Castiel knew they were exceedingly fond of each other and after each passing Christmas, New Year’s Eve, Valentine’s Day, and birthday he was more and more surprised that Gabriel hadn’t popped the question. He’d always been afraid that Gabriel would lose Kali one day. Castiel returned his brother’s sigh. “Gabe, can I call you later tonight? We’ll talk, I promise.” 

“Yeah, sure. What’s going on? You got a hot date or something?” he said with only a hint of the usual Gabe-ness in his voice. 

“Actually, I do.” 

“Oh. Oh!” Gabriel perked up at the admission. “First date or established thing?” 

“Um, first date, but we’ve known each other for a few months.” 

“Is he hot?” 

"Yes,” he replied plainly. He could hear the rumble of the Impala’s big engine pulling up in the driveway. “And, he’s here. So I have to go.” 

“Good luck, bro! Hey, are you gonna put out on the first date?” 

“Inappropriate as usual,” he retorted, but smiled. “I’ll talk to you later. Goodbye, Gabriel.” 

Castiel slid the phone back into his pocket and headed into the living room. Dean was just jogging up as he opened the door. The other man looked like he’d just come from a magazine photo shoot. He wore light gray denim pants and an untucked white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up in neat cuffs at his elbows. He was sporting a two-day old scruff (Dean hardly ever bothered to shave on his days off). He wore his usual off-duty jewelry: watch on his left wrist, black elephant hair bracelet on his right wrist, brass amulet hanging from a leather cord around his neck, and a silver band on his right ring finger. Dean stopped on the top step and raked his green-gaze over Castiel, appraising him quietly. 

Castiel leaned his hip against the door frame and smiled. “Hello, Dean.” 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said in a soft voice that Castiel had never heard before, but immediately knew was a tone reserved solely for him. Dean’s smile had the same easy, intimate quality and Castiel wanted to snap a picture of it for his own private viewing whenever he pleased. The cop crossed the few feet from the edge of the porch to the front door, leaning in to place a quick, almost shy peck to Castiel’s cheek. “Ready?” 

“Yeah,” he replied breathily as he grabbed his keys from the table and closed the door behind him. This was already the best date he’d ever been on and they hadn’t even gotten to the car yet. 

~~~~~ 

They got to the one-screen vintage movie theater in downtown Lawrence in time to see _The Departed_. After a stop at the concession stand for popcorn, sodas, and licorice ( _“You actually like that stuff?” “Classic movie food, dude."_ ), they found seats in the middle of the mostly empty theater. Their hands may have bumped together over the popcorn bucket propped on Dean’s knee more than necessary for the next two and a half hours, but they did actually pay attention to the movie. 

Later, while they waited for their extra-cheese, three-meat pizza at Mario’s, Castiel leaned back in the booth tearing a breadstick in half before dipping one end in the little cup of marinara sauce nestled in the bread basket. “Ever been undercover before?” 

“Nah. Never wanted to either. I mean, I admire the guys who can do it. It takes a lot to become a different person, to not be in contact with their families and friends. And, the stuff they have to do to keep their cover?” Dean just shook his head. “Give me my uniform and patrol car any day 

“What made you want to become a cop?” 

“I took Bobby’s Chevelle out for a joy ride one Friday night when I was 14 and he made me sit in lockup for the whole weekend to teach me a lesson.” He shrugged with a sheepish smile at Castiel’s incredulous look. "Rufus read me the riot act about ending up on the wrong side of the law. He knew all the right buttons to push too, told me that I needed to be someone for Sam to look up to and to not cause Bobby more trouble when he was already dealing with Aunt Karen being sick.” 

Dean played with the ring on his finger as he spoke. “They came up with their own punishment instead of pressing charges to keep me out of the system. I worked at the police station five days a week, all day for the entire summer. Started out washing the squad cars and scrubbing toilets until some of the older guys realized I was pretty good with a computer and got me to input some of their reports into the new computer system that they all hated. Probably not the best idea to give a teenager access to a database full of arrest records.” He chuckled at the memory. 

“I realized real police work was so different from what I’d seen on TV. There’s a lot of crap they had to put up with, paperwork, rules, regulations, meetings, training, boring stuff. But, at the end of the day it’s a big family. They look out for each other and they look out for the city. Saving people, hunting bad guys. I wanted to be part of that.” 

“Well, that’s a much better story than mine,” Castiel said with a self-deprecating smile. 

“So, what made you decide to become a doctor, doc?” Dean grinned. 

“My dad. It was what was expected of me.” 

“You didn’t have a choice?” 

“Not really. My brothers and I were good little soldiers growing up, following the plan the colonel had mapped out for us without question. Looking back, it seems overbearing for a parent to do that to a kid. But, I never wanted to be anything other than a doctor, so I don’t regret being pushed into medicine. I like what I do. Every day brings something different. I never know if I’m going to see somebody’s first breath or somebody’s last, but either way, I’m part of something bigger than myself.” With a little shrug, he continued, “If I hadn’t gotten the nudge, I’d probably be working at a gas station and living in somebody’s basement.” 

Dean laughed. “I find that hard to believe.” 

The waitress brought out their steaming hot pizza and served up the first slices. As they ate, their conversation moved to lighter subjects like the infamous Winchester prank wars ( _“Sammy, still won’t use shower gel after the Nair incident.”_ ) and the summer Castiel worked at Disneyland as Prince Eric from _The Little Mermaid_ ( _“Walt would roll over in his cryo-tube if he knew what we all did after hours in Sleeping Beauty Castle.”_ ). When the wait staff started turning up chairs and sweeping the floor at midnight, Castiel tossed enough cash to cover the bill and a generous tip on the table, arguing that Dean had paid for the movie and snacks, so he could pick up dinner. 

The ride back to Castiel’s house was quiet. When they pulled into the drive, he turned to Dean and smiled. “Wanna come in for a while?” 

Dean looked up at the house for a moment before turning to Castiel with a rueful smile. “I really do, but I start first shift tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh, ok,” he replied trying not to sound disappointed. 

“I had a really good time, Cas,” Dean said quick to reassure him. “I hope we can go out again.” 

Castiel brightened instantly. “I’d like that.” 

Dean unbuckled his seatbelt so he could slide across the length of the Impala’s leather seat to reach out for the dark-haired doctor. He wanted nothing more than to follow this man into his house and up to his bedroom, but Cas deserved more than falling into the rut of Dean’s usual relationships. So he settled for a long goodnight kiss instead. His hands gently cupped Cas’s jaw, fingertips digging ever so slightly into his hairline, thumbs ghosting over his cheekbones. 

Castiel leaned into the kiss, his hands perched on Dean’s shoulders grabbing handfuls of his shirt as he inched closer until their thighs touched and he was very tempted to swing a leg over and climb into the other man’s lap. Dean pulled away just in time to keep that from happening. 

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Dean said as he dropped his arms. 

They got out of the car, her heavy doors groaning on their hinges. Most people would have kept the creaky doors oiled, but the sound seemed to suit the big Chevy. Her engine gently purred as Dean followed Castiel up to the lit porch. 

“I’m off next Friday night,” Castiel offered as he unlocked his front door. 

“Yeah, me too,” Dean said, reaching for Castiel’s hand to pull him close again, eyes already locked on the doctor’s lips. 

Castiel’s tongue darted out to lick his lower lip just as Dean leaned in for another kiss. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he slid his arms around the cop’s shoulders. He could definitely get used to the way Dean’s plump lips felt against his, the way Dean’s tongue tentatively sought permission for entrance and then danced unhurriedly against his. Dean’s hands wandered down Castiel’s sides until they came to rest at his hips, squeezing possessively. Castiel nudged himself against Dean’s thigh and gave a slow suggestive grind of his hips. Dean gasped against his lips and pulled his head back quickly, but didn’t let him go. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, softening the reaction and soothing the confused look from Cas’s face with a gentle kiss. Slowly, he broke the kiss, eyes dropping down to Castiel’s swollen lips. Thoughts of where those lips could be within minutes if he just pushed into the house didn’t help the tightness in his jeans. He took a step back, edging his way towards the porch steps while he still had some blood left in his head for higher brain function. “See you at the Roadhouse on Tuesday?” 

Castiel nodded. “Put my order in if you get there before I do?” 

“Will do,” he replied with a smile. “Night, Cas.” 

“Pleasant dreams, Dean,” he said as he pushed open his door. Castiel lingered at the threshold to watch him return to the Impala. He had to admit to himself that the big muscle car looked good parked in his driveway. He waved goodbye as the Impala passed by the house and stayed at the door, watching until the car turned right at the intersection down the street disappearing into the night. With his body still buzzing pleasantly from the feel of Dean’s hands and lips and smiling like a dope, Castiel headed off to the kitchen to fix himself a drink and give his poor lonely brother in Las Vegas a call.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments! :)

Dinner and a movie quickly became a weekly occurrence. For two people with weird, ever changing schedules, somehow they figured out how to make it work. Sometimes dinner was breakfast after they both got off from a long, overnight shift and sometimes the movie was on somebody’s TV (it was much easier to make out on a couch than in the back of a crowded theater). They still went to the usual gatherings with the rest of the gang, but their weekly date, just the two of them, became sacred. It was comfortable, slow and easy. 

 

 

They hadn't cleared out drawers for each other or squirreled away toothbrushes in each other’s bathrooms yet, but Castiel had added Dean’s favorite beer and peanut M&Ms to his weekly grocery list and Dean stocked double-stuffed Oreos in his snack cabinet and Diet Dr. Pepper in his fridge just for Castiel. Of course, there were the little things that got left over by accident. Castiel’s burgundy hoodie, forgotten in the doctor’s rush to get to the hospital one day when he was on call, was hanging next to Dean’s blue canvas jacket on the peg by the apartment’s front door. Dean’s controller was still hooked up to Castiel’s Playstation from when they split-screened _Call of Duty: Black Ops_ together with Charlie, Garth, and Kevin online. He finally ended up buying a second controller because he kept forgetting to take his back home. 

 

 

Dean had so easily wormed his way into Castiel’s life that he didn’t really notice Dean’s constant presence until it suddenly wasn’t there. 

 

 

The gods of scheduling quit working in their favor at the end of September. On Castiel’s days off, Dean was working. When Castiel was scheduled to work days, Dean was switched to third shift. His schedule was so inconsistent over the month that he hadn’t even been able to make it to any of the regular get-togethers with the rest of the group. He and Dean managed to call each other a few times and kept up a constant stream of texts back and forth, but the blue glow and musical alert of a phone were poor substitutes for real company. By the last week of October, Castiel realized that he _really_ missed being close to Dean. 

 

 

Sitting in his car after a grueling shift on Halloween night, Castiel tapped out a message. 

 

 

_[Message sent to Dean at 00:05] awake?_

_[Message received from Dean at 00:07] yep_

 

 

Castiel sighed with relief. He hated what he was about to ask, but it had been a horrible day and he didn’t want to go straight home to his empty house all alone. Missing Dean had freight-trained right past wanting to see him and slammed head on into needing to see him. 

 

 

_[Message sent to Dean at 00:08] can I come over?_

_[Message received from Dean at 00:09] yeah, u ok?_

 

 

No, he wasn’t, but feelings were never meant to be condensed into 160 characters. 

 

 

_[Message sent to Dean at 00:11] be there in 20_

 

 

Traffic was a little heavier than usual for midnight on a weeknight due to the Halloween party crowd still being out and about, but Castiel managed to make it across town to Dean’s apartment in under a half hour without flipping off any costumed revelers. He trudged up the stairs pulling the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt down over his chilled hands. The weather was finally starting to turn. A sharp wind gusted in from the northwest bringing with it the clean crispness of autumn. 

 

 

The light beside Dean’s door was on when he rang the doorbell. Barely ten seconds passed before the door opened and Dean tugged him into the warm apartment, wrapping his arms tightly around Castiel's shoulders. 

 

 

“Benny and I heard what happened over the radio,” Dean murmured softly against his ear. He was dressed in plaid pajama pants and a faded University of Kansas t-shirt. His feet were bare on the cold tile of the entryway. 

 

 

Castiel slumped forward with his forehead resting wearily against Dean's shoulder and sighed. A drunken 19-year-old had plowed his car into a group of trick-or-treaters. A dad and his three-year-old son had been pinned under the car when it finally came to a stop, crashing into a tree in somebody’s front yard. The dad had been pronounced dead on the scene by the paramedics and the three-year-old had been rushed to Lawrence Memorial. Castiel’s team had worked on the kid for over an hour trying to get him stabilized before sending him to surgery, but he ended up coding in the operating room and the OR team couldn’t resuscitate him. The little boy’s eight-year-old sister arrived in critical condition with a severe brain injury and had been flown to Children’s Mercy in Kansas City once she was stabilized. Three other kids had sustained serious, but non-life threatening injuries. 

 

 

Death in the emergency department wasn't completely unexpected, but that didn't make it any easier to cope with. A child's death was especially difficult for the doctors and nurses. 

 

 

“That stupid kid walked away without a scratch,” Castiel snarled into Dean’s chest. 

 

 

They stood there by the closed door for several long minutes, Dean holding on to Castiel, running one hand soothingly up and down his back, while the doctor battled against the urge to cry or to punch something. When Castiel finally calmed down and took a deep breath, he lifted his head from Dean’s shoulder, looking up at him apologetically. 

 

 

"I'm sorry. It's late and I really shouldn’t have come over. I know you have to go to work early tomorrow." 

 

 

"Hey...hey. It's ok,” Dean said softly, not letting go of him. If anything, his arms only tightened their hold. "I have a pretty good idea what you're going through right now and being alone is the last thing you need. So, crash here tonight. I won't kick you out when I leave in the morning.” 

 

 

Adrenaline had been steadily draining out of him ever since he pulled into the parking lot outside and now Castiel was bone-weary and heart-sick. He barely had the will to put up a feeble protest when Dean started steering him through the living room, turning off the lamp by the couch. “I can sleep on the couch.” 

 

 

“My couch sucks. You’ll sleep in the bed.” Dean pulled Castiel into the apartment’s only bedroom. 

 

 

The covers of the bed were already pulled down and from the rumpled look of them Castiel guiltily suspected that Dean had been well on his way to sleep when he sent his text. 

 

 

“Don’t wanna kick you out of your own bed, Dean,” Castiel said as he sat heavily on the edge of the bed, not even reacting when Dean knelt down to pull off his shoes and socks. 

 

 

“Who said I was sleeping anywhere else?” He winked up at Castiel. “C’mon, up. Pants off.” 

 

 

“This isn’t exactly what I thought of when I imagined you saying that,” he mumbled as he thumbed open the button of his jeans and shimmied out of his pants before collapsing back down on the bed. 

 

 

Dean chuckled and helped him settle under the covers before turning off the light and heading around the foot of the bed to climb in on the other side. “I’ve been wanting to get you in my bed for a while now.” 

 

 

Castiel rolled over to face Dean. The room was dark, but he could just make out Dean’s profile in the dim light filtering through the blinds on the window. He made an aborted motion to scoot closer, but changed his mind at the last second. They’d never slept together before. Sure, there had been a couple of times when one of them passed out against the other stretched out all comfy and horizontal on the couch while watching TV, but this was the first time they were sharing a bed. 

 

 

Dean fiddled with his alarm clock before stretching out to lie on his back next to Castiel. In one fluid motion, he pulled the doctor snuggly into his side, not giving him a chance to do anything but acquiesce to the arrangement. Not that Castiel would ever dream of willingly moving away from Dean’s addictive heat and solid support. He practically melted against Dean with his cheek pressed resolutely against the cop’s t-shirt covered shoulder and his arm thrown across Dean's stomach. His only regret as he drifted off to sleep was that they were both wearing far too many clothes. 

 

 

~~~~~ 

 

 

The alarm clock started blaring Metallica at 5:30am. Dean blindly flapped his hand backwards in the direction of the bedside table, trying to turn off the overly loud chorus of _Sandman_. After a few seconds, he managed to hit the snooze button, silencing the music, without waking Cas. As much as he absolutely hated getting up before dawn on the days he worked first shift, he couldn’t help the sleepy smile tugging at his lips as he plastered himself against Cas’s warm back. He could definitely get used to this. 

 

 

That thought snapped his brain into full awake mode. He’d never gotten to this point in any of his past relationships; he never thought about _getting used_ to something with anybody he had been with. Everybody looked to him for a quick, no-strings-attached lay, not a relationship, and that had always been good enough for the days or weeks that it lasted. Whenever Sam and Jess mentioned that he needed to find somebody to settle down with, he always brushed them off. He wasn’t the marrying type, he’d tell them. But now, with his forehead pressed firmly against the spot where the doctor’s shoulders met his neck, he wasn’t so sure about that anymore. Maybe it wasn’t that he wasn’t the marrying type, but that none of the people he had been with were worth marrying. Cas was definitely worth a commitment, worth something more than just a handful of dates and sex. 

 

 

Hell, they hadn’t even had sex yet! It was going on two months since their first date and he hadn’t even gotten past second base. That was a new record. Not that Cas was withholding sex. Dean was pretty sure that Cas would have hopped into bed with him the night of their first date, but he just didn’t want Cas to be another notch on his belt. The doctor deserved better than that. 

 

 

Of course, not trying to steal third base meant driving home with uncomfortably tight jeans on more than one occasion. It also meant having to twist into a really awkward position to keep his traitorous morning wood from poking against Cas’s boxer-clad ass. 

 

 

The other man shifted in his sleep, reaching up to grab hold Dean’s hand where it rested over Cas’s heart and threading their fingers together. He made no other motion to indicate that he was awake, even when Dean cautiously whispered his name. Dean squeezed his hand, rubbing his thumb lightly over Cas’s. His heart was all at once light and so full it felt like it was about to burst. Cas was filling up a space in Dean’s life that he never even realized was empty. 

 

 

He was in love, completely head-over-heels for the ER doc. 

 

 

When the alarm started again, this time to a much more morning-friendly acoustic version of _Simple Man_ , Dean pressed a tender kiss to the patch of bare skin between the neck of Cas’s shirt and his hairline before carefully extracting himself from the bed and tucking his pillow against Cas’s back as a substitute in his absence. He crept out to the kitchen to get the coffeemaker going while he was in the bathroom. 

 

 

Dean turned on the shower to let the water warm up while he brushed his teeth. When he was finished brushing, he crouched down in front of the sink and fumbled through the cabinet to see if he had any extra toothbrushes lying around. Finding one, he ripped it out of the package and stuck it in the cup next to his green toothbrush, grinning at the thought that his toothbrush didn’t look lonely anymore. 

 

 

He hopped in the shower, giving his cock a few pumps of his fist for some quick relief while he thought about a pliable, sleepy Cas joining him. It didn’t take long before he was painting white stripes on the tile. As he started soaping up his shoulders, he decided to make breakfast instead of getting Benny to pull into the McDonald's drive-through on the way to headquarters for a bag of grease and an over-brewed coffee. Sam would be proud that he was skipping out on the trans-fats and extra cholesterol. Maybe Cas would wake up long enough to have a bite to eat and they could snatch a few minutes of time together before Dean had to leave for work. 

 

 

When he walked back in to his bedroom, towel slung low on this hips, he smiled at the sight before him. Cas was clutching one pillow tightly to his chest and drooling on the other. His dark hair was a mess of spikes going every which way across the light colored pillowcase. The covers had bunched up around his knees and his shirt had ridden up exposing a strip of tanned skin. The doctor was so deeply asleep that he didn't even stir when Dean started collecting his clothes from drawers and the closet. Wearing just his pants and undershirt, he carried his uniform shirt, belt, and socks in one hand, closing the door behind him so he wouldn't disturb the man sleeping in his bed while he made breakfast. 

 

 

Chances were high that Cas would sleep right through bacon and eggs, so Dean grabbed the tube of Pillsbury Cinnamon Rolls from the fridge. The pastries would reheat better than any other breakfast foods he had on hand. He dumped the lumps of dough on a baking pan and shoved them in the warming oven. The coffee pot was full and waiting. Dean took his travel mug out of the dish drainer and poured it half full, adding a spoonful of sugar to take the edge off the bitterness. 

 

 

Taking his coffee over to the little dinette table separating the kitchen from the living room, he sat down in front of his laptop to check his email. There was general junk mail, a few beginning-of-the-month bills, and an email with a link to a Youtube video about guilty dogs from Charlie. He chuckled against the rim of his mug as two caramel colored poodles outed a very shamefaced white poodle when their owner asked _Who did this mess?_ He took care of his bills and shot off an email to Sam asking him if he needed to pick up anything for dinner on Saturday. The pool was closed down until next Summer, but the weather was still grill friendly. Dean would gladly throw on a couple of extra layers to ward off any chill just to have juicy grilled meat even in the dead of winter. 

 

 

The timer on the stove beeped and Dean hopped up to pull the buns out of the oven. He slathered them with gooey, overly sweet icing from the little plastic cup. After putting one piping hot roll on a paper towel, he put the pan back in the turned off oven to keep the rest of them warm until Cas got up. Dean scribbled down a note on a Post-it letting him know where he could find breakfast and that he could use the blue toothbrush in the bathroom and stuck it to the coffeemaker where he would be sure to find it. He shrugged into his uniform shirt and fastened his belt before heading back to the bedroom. 

 

 

The doctor hadn't moved at all since Dean left the room. Quietly, he crossed over to the closet and squatted down to unlock the safe where he kept his service weapon. Standing, he holstered his gun, slipping the strap over the gun's butt to secure it in place, and walked over to the bed to look down at Cas. 

 

 

Yeah, he could get used to this view, Cas all snuggled up in his bed like he belonged there. Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to his temple. The other man shifted in his sleep and his eyes fluttered half-open before closing again. Before Dean stood up to leave, he breathed a quiet whisper against the curve of Cas's ear, "Love you." 

 

 

He wasn’t planning to say it. It just sorta…slipped out on its own. 

 

 

Cas shied away, hunching his shoulder up against his ear as though the whisper tickled. He smooshed his face into the pillow muttering something that sounded suspiciously like _Love you too_ before snorting a snore and going still again. 

 

 

Dean froze. 

 

 

Luckily, he was saved from overanalyzing what just happened by a buzzing from his pants pocket. He hurried out of the room before the noise could wake Cas. 

 

 

"Hey Benny," he said quietly as he shut the bedroom door and headed towards the kitchen to top off his mug with hot coffee. 

 

 

"You comin' out anytime today?" 

 

 

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Got distracted." He cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder as he twisted the cap on his mug. 

 

 

"Uh huh. That distraction doesn't happen to drive a gray BMW, now does it?" 

 

 

Dean sighed, wrapping up his cooling cinnamon bun and grabbing his hat as he headed towards the front door. Of course his partner would notice the car parked next to the Impala in his normally empty second parking spot. 

 

 

"I'm coming, I'm coming." He disconnected the call and gave the closed door of his bedroom a longing glance before heading down to meet Benny out in their squad car. 

 

 

The other officer gave Dean a big shit-eating grin when he descended the stairs and crossed the sidewalk to where the car was idling. 

 

 

"Not a word," Dean warned as he slid into the passenger seat, coffee mug in one hand and breakfast in the other. 

 

 

"Hey, you know me I ain't judgin'. I've seen you with much worse than the doc. Just surprised you waited so long." He pulled the car out of the parking lot and onto the road heading towards headquarters. 

 

 

"Yeah, well. He's not like the others," he confessed quietly around a mouthful of cinnamon roll. "Anyway, it wasn't like that. He was bummed out after dealing with that accident last night. I let him stay because he didn't need to be alone after that." Hastily, he added, "We didn't do anything but sleep." 

 

 

Benny hummed softly, still smiling. "Like, I said. I ain't judgin'. And, I ain't tellin' either. Not even that nosy sister-in-law of yours will get it out of me." 

 

 

Dean gave him a small smile. "Thanks, Benny. Jess'd probably drag Cas off to look at china patterns or something if she found out." 

 

 

At a stop light, Benny turned to pin Dean with a serious look. "He's good for you, Dean." 

 

 

"Yeah, but am I good enough for him?" he asked, brushing crumbs from his lap. 

 

 

His partner sighed a little sadly. "Yeah, you are. We all know it. Hell, I bet even Cas knows it since he's stuck around this long." 

 

 

"I told him I loved him," Dean blurted out. _Jesus, what was with his mouth this morning?_

 

 

Benny's eyebrows shot up towards his forehead. "And what did he say?" 

 

 

"He was asleep." 

 

 

Benny rolled his eyes and pushed down on the accelerator when the light turned green again. "Chicken." 

 

 

Dean stared out the window for the rest of the ride to the police department, his mind winding around in circles about Cas and him and where they headed. It was weird and scary, and while he knew he wanted Cas to be the only one for him, he didn't know if he was ready for whatever might come next. Was it too soon to be this far gone on someone? They'd only known each other since the beginning of summer and had only been dating for a couple of months. He didn't want to push Cas away by going too fast, but he didn't want to let Cas slip away either. 

 

 

"Hey," Benny said after they'd been sitting in the parking lot for several seconds without getting out. "Do I need to put you at a desk today and get Chambers to ride with me?" 

 

 

"Nah, I'm fine," Dean replied, shaking himself out of his thoughts. Time to get into work-mode. He got out of the patrol car and set his hat firmly in place on his head. "Hope everybody in North Lawrence is still hung over from last night and we have a quiet day." 

 

 

Benny chuckled, following his partner into the building. "Me too, brutha."


	6. Chapter 6

November breezed by. Thanksgiving was a come-as-you-can affair at the Singer house with a massive buffet laid out on the dining table. For about half an hour between six and seven o’clock that evening, the entire group was present in the house. Castiel and Jess were finishing their slices of pumpkin pie in time to head to the hospital for the night as Dean and Benny stomped through the front door, finally finished with their day shift. The cops didn’t even bother changing out of their uniforms though Ellen did make them take off their hats before they started piling their plates high with turkey, gravy, stuffing, mashed potatoes, corn, candied yams, and green bean casserole. Everybody else was either in the living room watching the Chiefs get slaughtered by the Broncos or arguing about _Battlefield_ tactics over the dessert table in the kitchen. Bobby snored away in his recliner oblivious to everything going on around him; he didn’t even twitch when Sam pulled out his camera to snap a picture of him sleeping with his mouth open and plate of half-eaten pie propped on his chest. 

 

The weather turned colder after the start of the holiday season. The prairie winds were blustery and thick frost covered windshields and yards every morning. But, Dean barely noticed the cold. He and Cas had created their own warm bubble of space that seemed to keep the encroaching early winter weather at bay. It was sappy how just the thought of being curled up in bed or on the couch with Cas could warm him up from the inside in a way that multiple layers of clothes and the patrol car’s heater couldn’t; Dean knew it and he was already past the point where he cared to deny it. 

 

They had stumbled into each other’s beds a few more times since Halloween night, mainly taking comfort in simply falling asleep and waking up together. It was novel for Dean to not have to do the walk of shame outside someone else’s place at dawn or wake up to an empty bed because his partner stole away in the middle of the night without so much as a note saying “It was fun!” left behind. Now when Dean woke up, Cas was either tucked up against him under the covers or a fresh pot of coffee that the doctor made before heading to work was waiting for him. Then there were the glorious mornings when neither of them had to get up for work and they could take their time waking up together. Their first lazy morning together started when Dean woke up to Cas’s beautiful mouth wrapped around his half-hard dick. 

 

Life was good. 

 

“17, a 10-16 at 1301 Patterson,” came the dispatcher’s voice over the radio. 

 

“17, copy,” Dean replied. After releasing the radio’s button, he looked over at Benny and groaned. “I don’t know why we don’t just park at the end of their street every Saturday night. It’d save us some time. 

 

Benny chuckled and pulled the car into the Taco Bell parking lot to turn around, heading back in the direction they just came from. 

 

North Lawrence had once been a nice part of town with dozens of post-war bungalows sitting side by side in tidy little neighborhoods, outlined by sidewalks and parks. The people who originally lived there in the 1950s had been hard-working blue collar folks who managed to eke out a few extra dollars to outfit their homes with TVs, washing machines, and new cars in the driveway. When the nearby manufacturing plant closed in the late 70s, over a hundred workers were displaced. Most of them moved away, chasing factory jobs to other parts of Kansas or heading to the more service-oriented parts of town around the university. The area fell into a localized depression and never recovered. The tidy little neighborhoods were now pock-marked with abandoned cars, condemned houses, overgrown yards, and half-empty strip malls. Not even the random strings of colored Christmas lights and tacky holiday decorations could cheer up the area. 

 

Benny stopped at the curb in front of house next door to their final destination and radioed back to dispatch that they’d arrived on scene. A golden beam of light cut across the lawn as the occupant checked the activity from a curtained window before withdrawing from sight. Muffled screaming could be heard coming from the neighboring house. 

 

Alastair and Lilith Silver were well known to the police department, having elicited numerous complaints from their neighbors over the last seven years. It was hard to tell exactly who the worst abuser in the relationship was since they’d sent each other to the hospital on more than one occasion. They’d take out restraining orders against each and then be living together again before the orders expired. Benny and Dean had become regular visitors to this particular address since they’d been put on patrol in North Lawrence earlier in the year. They were well acquainted with the special kind of crazy that went on in the faded slate gray house with one crooked shutter hanging precariously next to the front window at the corner of Patterson Avenue and Pontiac Street. 

 

Benny jogged up the three crumbling concrete porch steps and banged on the door frame, rattling the barred door. Dean stayed several feet back and off to the side on the cracked sidewalk trying to get a look into the house through the Christmas tree-obscured window while his partner took point this time around. The yelling escalated, but the walls were too thick to understand exactly what was being said. 

 

“Lawrence Po…” He didn’t have a chance to get out the rest of the words before Alastair ripped open the door, pistol raised from his outstretched arm, and fired. 

 

“Benny!” Dean cried, ducking against the bushes. 

 

The momentum of the shot at point-blank range knocked the other officer backwards off the porch and flat on his back in the grass. The visible vapor of his breath lingered in the air after he fell. The gunman ran back into the house. 

 

Dean’s training took over, spurring him into action without pausing to think. Hunkering down next a scraggily holly bush hugging the front of the house, he grabbed for the radio on his shoulder and unholstered his service weapon. “Shots fired! Officer down!” 

 

No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. Alastair and Lilith had only ever been violent towards each other behind the walls of their own home; neither of them had ever pulled a gun on the other. The neighbors complained, but only because the screaming and occasional item thrown through the front window were annoying, not because anybody was scared of them. The neighbors used to be worried that Alastair was the typical abusive husband, battering his poor defenseless wife. But, they quickly learned that Lilith was far from defenseless. Her bite was even worse than her bark. 

 

More gunshots rang out from inside the house before Alastair burst out of the front door and flew down the porch steps in a mad attempt to escape. 

 

“Freeze!” Dean called out, gun raised. 

 

The other man stopped in place, eyes locked on Benny’s prone body sprawled in the dead, overgrown grass. Very slowly, he turned his head pinning Dean with a cold glare. 

 

“C’mon, man. Put the gun down,” he ordered. The look on Alastair’s face made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in a way that had nothing to do with the chilly early-December air. He slid his index finger down from alongside the barrel to rest on the trigger. In all of his years on the force, he’d only ever drawn his weapon on a perpetrator twice, but he had never actually touched the trigger while pointing his gun at another person. 

 

The tall, thin man twisted his body, extending his arm up, aiming the pistol at the kneeling officer. 

 

“Goddammit, Alastair! Put it down!” he barked. 

 

“See you in Hell, Officer Winchester.” He laughed, menacingly, and fired. 

 

Dean’s left shoulder was punched backwards with the force of the hit, but he still managed to squeeze the trigger three times in rapid succession. 

 

An unnatural hush fell when the echo of his last shot finally faded, like the blast had sucked up all of the ambient sounds of the neighborhood. A trail of hot smoke danced above the end of his gun. Alastair stared at him with a dark grin twisting his mouth before his eyes glazed over and he keeled over in a heap on the lawn. 

 

Far off in the distance the wail of a siren broke the silence and the world seemed to breathe again. The radio crackled to life with the back and forth conversation between dispatch and the units in route. Patches of golden light appeared in the dark yards as curious neighbors opened their blinds and doors to see what was going on. 

 

Dean shot to his feet, shoving his weapon back into his holster, and hurried across the grass to kick the pistol away from Alastair’s outstretched hand. Running on autopilot, he was barely conscious of what he was doing as he relayed crucial information about the situation back to dispatch. He fell down on his knees next to Benny and saw the sticky, wet shine of the blood soaking his black uniform shirt. His partner had been hit high on the collarbone. The area was torn open and bleeding profusely. 

 

“Benny? C’mon, man. Stay with me,” he pleaded desperately, pressing his bare hands firmly on the wound. 

 

Glassy blue eyes fluttered open as Benny gasped sharply in pain. “De…?” 

 

“Hey, hey. You’re fine.” Dean forced a grin and tried to ignore sick feeling of warm blood oozing between his cold fingers. “It's just a scratch. The bus’ll be here in a minute.” 

 

“T-tell…tell Andrea…” Benny’s skin was pale beneath the smear of red creeping up his neck. 

 

“Nope. I’m not gonna tell Andrea anything because you’re gonna tell her yourself.” Dean pushed down harder on Benny’s shoulder. “Just keep talking to me, ok?” 

 

The next few minutes were a blur as squad cars appeared from all directions, tires squealing to a halt in the street. Flashing blue lights lit up the neighborhood like some weird disco where the soundtrack was made up of wailing sirens and shouting voices. Neighbors started congregating on doorsteps and in driveways to watch the action. Familiar faces rushed past Dean and Benny into the house, weapons drawn, yelling out to whoever who might still be inside. 

 

An orange and white ambulance ambled to a stop in the middle of the road. Its big diesel engine rumbled angrily in the street as a pair of EMTs jumped out from the cab. A third guy climbed out of the back pulling down a stretcher loaded with their big canvas bags of gear. 

 

“We got vic inside!” someone called from the house’s doorway. 

 

The three EMTs split up, one heading over to Alastair’s motionless body, one dropping down next to Benny who had managed to stay conscious for the last few minutes, and the third disappearing into the house once the officers had deemed it safe for him to enter. 

 

A second ambulance pulled up to the curb and another pair of paramedics rushed out to join their colleagues. There was a flurry of activity around the injured officer and Dean was shouldered out of the way while they worked. When he stood up, he wobbled dizzily. 

 

"Whoa! Dean, you ok?" asked the dark haired EMT who caught him before he could pitch forward, face-first into the grass. 

 

It took Dean a second to realize the guy holding him was Andy Gallagher. Andy worked on the rescue squad in this part of town and was a regular face whenever somebody got beat up or stabbed or overdosed on something in North Lawrence. Dean and Benny had accompanied Andy’s crew to more than a handful of calls over the last year. He blinked to clear his vision before looking down at the guys working on Benny. "Uh...yeah. I'm fine. Is he going to be ok?" 

 

"They’ll take good care of him," Andy assured, gently ushering him away from his partner and over to the back of an ambulance. "Did you get hit?" 

 

“I…I don’t…dunno.” Dean turned his head to watch the other paramedics roll Benny over onto a backboard and load him onto the stretcher. The motion caused a piercing spike of pain to radiate out from his shoulder. He grunted and sagged against Andy. 

 

"C'mon up here." The EMT helped him climb up into the back of the waiting truck. Dean winced at the brightness in the cramped cabin as he was guided to sit on the edge of the stretcher. Andy started checking him out, shining a light in his eyes before running gloved hands over his head and along his neck. The officer hissed when the medic slid his hands down his arms. There was an obvious, wet hole in one sleeve. "I'm gonna have to cut your shirt off to get a better look, ok?" 

 

Dean chuckled darkly. "Just don't let my boyfriend know." 

 

Andy snickered and made quick work of scissoring through the sturdy fabric of Dean’s uniform. He grimaced in sympathy as he carefully peeled the sleeve away from the dark red wound marring the officer’s arm. "Looks like he got you too." 

 

"Well, shit." Dean glanced down at his bloody upper arm. Shock and pain rapidly set in. He listed to his left barely giving Andy enough warning to tip him back in the other direction before he passed out. 

 

***** 

 

Castiel stood under the soothingly warm, though feeble stream of water in one of the shower stalls in the doctor's lounge. The lack of pressure from having to supply the hospital's hundreds of sinks and showers was made up for by the never ending supply of hot water. He hated showering in the lounge, but he hated waking up smelling like disinfectant, sweat, and sick people even more. As much as he preferred the pummeling blast of the expensive showerhead in his own shower, he knew he’d never make it past his bed and into the bathroom once he got home. He had just flipped open the cap on his bottle of shower gel when a familiar voice called out urgently from the far side of the room by the door. 

 

"Castiel? You in here?" 

 

It was Meg. Judging by the sound of her voice, something was obviously wrong. She was out of breath and bordering on frantic. Plus, she never called him by his given name. 

 

"Yeah, but my shift ended an hour ago." It was just his luck that some bad call would come before he could make it out of the building and he’d be suckered into rejoining the fray. 

 

"We need you. _Now_." 

 

The stress in her voice prevented him from arguing with her, regardless of how badly he wanted to get home to start his ten hours of beauty sleep. He hurried to get dry enough to throw his scrubs back on. Five minutes later with his hair still damp, he headed back down the long corridor towards the festively decorated emergency department. 

 

The scene was hectic with a dozen officers and detectives milling about with worried looks on their faces. It wasn’t uncommon for traumas to have a police escort, but it was unusual to see so many uniformed cops hanging around like worried family members. His eyes darted around looking for a familiar face in the sea of black uniforms. He thought he recognized three of the officers huddled around the fake Christmas tree, but he couldn’t find Dean or Benny. 

 

Meg found him and grabbed him by the elbow, dragging him towards one of the big trauma bays. He started to grab a pair of gloves from the dispenser by the door, but she stopped him and moved to stand in front of him, making sure she had his full attention before speaking. "Dean's been shot." 

 

"What?!" he gasped, his heart leaping up into his throat. His world stopped. 

 

He never spent too much time thinking about the fact that Dean was a police officer (other than to daydream about how hot he looked in his uniform), that every day he went to work with a gun strapped to his hip, that his job had an element of danger that most other jobs didn’t have. Lawrence wasn’t a hot bed for violent crime, not even in the less savory areas of town. For the last couple of years, there hadn’t been a single murder. Most crime in the area was property related with the occasional domestic dispute or assault thrown in to the mix. 

 

So, maybe he had started flicking past USA and TNT whenever he flipped through the channels to avoid any _Law and Order_ marathon that might be on. Seeing somebody get shot on the show hit a little too close to home for his liking nowadays. But, he hadn’t worried about Dean. Now he didn’t know if the anxiety building behind his sternum would ever go away. 

 

Meg squeezed his arm tightly, pulling his focus back to her. "Bullet’s in his upper arm. He’ll be ok. Hester's working on him right now. His partner was shot in the shoulder. They've got him down the hall." 

 

Castiel looked past her shoulder to see the commotion buzzing around their biggest trauma room. Every couple of seconds someone in scrubs ran through the open doorway either shouting orders or wheeling in another piece of equipment. There were too many people crowding around the gurney for Castiel to have any hope of seeing what was going on. "Who's in there with them?" 

 

"Balthazar and Uriel. They're hoping to have him stable for surgery soon. He’s worse off than Dean, but they think he’ll be ok too. There’s a third victim and the rest of the team’s with her." 

 

Multiple shootings meant all-hands-on-deck in the department. Castiel nodded, slipping back into doctor-mode. “Where do you need me?” 

 

“In here,” Meg said as she led him into Trauma Room 3. 

 

Dean was sitting upright and shirtless on a gurney. His head was tilted back against the raised head of the stretcher and his eyes were closed. His left arm was covered in blood, the bullet wound continuing to sluggishly bleed though it had partially clotted. Ruby stood at the head of the bed, fiddling with the IV pump and checking on the monitors. 

 

Castiel started to protest that he couldn’t work on Dean, but Meg steered him to the other side of the bed and stuffed a stool under the back of his knees forcing him to sit down before she hurried out of the room. 

 

Hester cast a sideways glance in his direction, but didn’t say anything and went back to studying the x-rays up on light boxes mounted to the wall. 

 

Castiel reached out to take Dean’s right hand, mindful of the IV taped to the back of it. Dean roused at the touch, blinking dull green eyes several times before his vision cleared enough to see. A dopey half-grin crooked up the corner of his mouth. 

 

“Heeey. Wassup up, doc?” he slurred, clearly under the effects of some really good pain medication. 

 

The doctor snorted softly, squeezing Dean’s hand. The Bugs Bunny reference wasn’t lost on him despite what Dean may have thought the first time they met. “Hey, yourself.” 

 

“Dude. I got shot.” Dean’s eyes widened as though he still couldn’t quite believe what had happened. 

 

“So I see.” Castiel leaned over to get a better view of the injury. The bullet had hit a few inches below the shoulder joint. From his vantage point, he couldn’t tell if it had gone all the way through or not, and without having a close look at the x-ray, he had no idea of the extent of the internal damage if the bullet was still in Dean’s arm. 

 

“Benny…Benny’s… He ok?” Dean’s bottom lip trembled. A big fat tear spilled over his cheek and landed on his bare collarbone. 

 

Castiel thumbed away the tear before glancing up at Ruby who gave him an uncharacteristically quiet shrug and shake of her head. He looked back down to Dean. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. Want me to go check?” 

 

“No. Don’t go. Stay, Cas…stay.” Panic flashed across Dean’s face as he clutched Castiel’s hand tightly. The heart monitor by the head of the bed beeped a little faster for several seconds before it slowed down again and his eyes fluttered closed. His grip remained firm, holding Castiel hostage even though the doctor had no intention of leaving Dean’s side. 

 

Castiel studied his pale face, traced his sight along the well-known constellation of freckles dotting over his cheeks and nose. He had woken up to next to that face, sleep slack and so boyish, on the pillow next to his this morning. Now a grimace marred Dean’s brow. 

 

“The bullet fractured his proximal humerus. He’s going to need surgery.” Hester’s voice broke through his thoughts. 

 

He nodded, hearing her talk about removing bullet fragments, cleaning out the bone splinters, and pinning the break, but not truly listening what she was saying. His index finger traced along the scar marring the inside of Dean’s palm, remembering their first meeting. Never in a million years would he wish harm on anyone (hello…Hippocratic Oath…), but he was so very glad for that stupid dumpster and its jagged edge. Jess probably would have invited him over to her house and introduced him to Dean at some point in time, but it might have taken years for that to happen. Castiel was glad he had Dean now, glad they were past first date jitters and feeling each other out, glad they were comfortable together. 

 

But, this slow dance they were dancing was going to end as soon as Dean was discharged from the hospital. Castiel wasn’t about to waste another day waiting for Dean to make the next move. He had no doubts about his feelings for this man, had no doubts that this was the person he wanted in his life, every day for the rest of his days. He wanted Dean in his house, taking up space in the house that was too big for just one person. He wanted to make his house Dean’s house, their house. He wanted to be _us_ and _we_ with Dean, to have _ours_ with Dean. He would worry about Dean every time he headed out on patrol, but he would eagerly welcome him home with open arms after every shift. 

 

“Has somebody called his brother?” he interrupted Hester in the middle of her explanation about the intricacies of what the orthopedic surgeon was going to do. 

 

Ruby nodded. “Yeah, one of the other officers called their families.” 

 

A nurse wearing a brightly patterned surgical cap and disposable shoe covers walked into the room. “OR’s ready, Dr. Holmes.” 

 

“Thanks, Jane,” Hester replied as she hurried out of the room to scrub in. 

 

Ruby and the other nurse started prepping Dean and everything he was attached to for transport to the operating room. 

 

Dean woke up startled and confused at all the sudden fuss around him. “Cas?” 

 

Castiel squeezed his hand gently, standing up from the stool to walk along as they wheeled Dean out of the trauma room. “Dr. Holmes is going to take you to surgery to fix your arm. I’m going to go see how Benny’s doing and then wait for Sam and Jess, ok?” 

 

The injured officer nodded sleepily, worry and fear relaxing away from his face as the pre-surgery sedatives Ruby had injected into his IV started to work. 

 

Castiel lifted his hand up to his lips, kissing his knuckles gently. “I’ll see you when you wake up, ok?” 

 

Dean fought hard to keep his eyes open as they approached the elevator. He stared up hard and serious at the doctor, his vision momentarily sharpening past the haze of drugs. “Ok, Cas. L-love you…I love you, Cas.” 

 

Castiel smiled as they paused, waiting for the elevator doors to open. He leaned down, kissing the corner of Dean’s mouth. The other man probably wasn’t even aware of what he was saying, and Castiel knew he wouldn’t remember saying them when he woke up after surgery, but that didn’t stop him from saying, “I love you too, Dean.” 

 

His heart ached as he let go of Dean’s hand, watching as they wheeled him into the elevator and the doors closed behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17 = Dean and Benny's squad car
> 
> 10-16 = Domestic disturbance


	7. Chapter 7

_Beep…beep…beep…beep…beep._

_PONG!_

_Dr. Glass to the OR. Dr. Glass to the OR._

Ah, the _Dr. Sexy_ dream again. Probably one of his absolute favorites. Especially if his very own sexy doctor decided to make a repeat guest appearance. The last time he’d had this dream he ended up spit-roasted between Cas and Dr. Palmer in the janitor’s closet, and then Dr. Piccolo walked in and slapped all three of them before stomping away in a huff because she hadn’t been invited. Maybe if he rolled over and snuggled into Cas’ back he could steer the dream in that direction again. Well, he’d roll over if his body would cooperate with what his brain was trying to tell it to do.

"Mr. Winchester,” came a honeyed alto voice to his right. “You gonna wake up for me?”

He furrowed his brow and grumbled unintelligibly. He wasn’t even sure what the sound coming out of his mouth was supposed to be; some form of _Hell, no!_ was his best guess. Hold up. Why was there a woman in his bedroom? Wait, no. This didn’t feel like his bed. Maybe it was Cas’s bed. If so, then the doc’s bed sucked and that was an even better reason for them to always sleep over at Dean’s crappy little apartment than just to keep prying Winchester eyes from noticing that the Impala had been parked in Cas’ driveway overnight. Dean missed his mattress – _memory foam, it remembered him!_

The lady chuckled softly. “C’mon, son. The sooner I get to see those pretty eyes of yours, the sooner we can get you settled somewhere a lot quieter for the rest of the night.”

He blinked and immediately regretted the decision to open his eyes when he was blinded by unnaturally bright overhead florescent lights. Whining, he tried to raise his left arm to block out the light only to find that his arm was strapped securely to his chest. A bolt of panic shot through his whole body and he struggled frantically to get free from the restraint. The digital beeping behind and to the right of his head that had been steadily plodding along broke into an agitated gallop.

"Easy, easy," the woman said soothingly. “Your arm’s in a sling to keep it immobilized.”

He felt a hand press lightly against his right shoulder. The touch was calming, and after a few seconds, his heart and the beeping that echoed his pulse slowed back down to their original tempo. The rush of adrenaline helped sweep away the fog that was making his mind thick and numb. His vision cleared and he saw a short, stout black lady wearing all white standing next him.

“There you are,” she said softly with a gentle smile on her kind face. “I’m Nurse Mosley. You got out of surgery a little while ago and as soon as you wake up a little more we’ll call somebody from your family to come see you. Will that be ok?”

Dean nodded, mutely. Oh, right. He got shot. His sluggish brain was trying too hard to catch up to what was going on right now to remember the details of how and why he got shot. He jumped when a machine near the bed started whirring and something tightened around his right bicep.

“That’s just the blood pressure cuff. It’s gonna do that every 15 minutes for the next hour or so and it’ll probably scare the bejeezus out of you every time. I’d much rather take your pressure the old fashioned way, but you know how hospitals like the latest and greatest gadgets,” she said as she clicked her pen and scribbled down some notes on a folder while checking the monitor over the bed. “Now can you tell me where you’re having pain?”

It took him a couple of tries and a tiny sip of water before he could rasp out the word, “Arm.”

“On a scale of 1-10, how bad would you say your pain is?”

He mumbled a number, but by the time it left his lips, he’d already forgotten what he said. Apparently it was the magic number because barely a minute later a rush of warmth spread out through his limbs making them comfortably heavy and he sighed with relief.

“Ok, you’re all set for a little while. I’m gonna let you rest and go check on my other patients.”

“S’Benny here?” His brain finally started back-pedaling to the circumstances leading up to his current predicament. He was really starting to regret that this wasn’t the Dr. Sexy dream. 

Her brown eyes softened. “No, darlin’. Your partner’s still in surgery. Maybe someone in your family will have an update when they come see you.”

“’Kay,” he said on an exhale. No news was good news, right?

Time passed, but between the lingering haze of anesthesia and the morphine flowing through his bloodstream, he had no idea how much time passed. Nurse Mosley came by a couple of times to check his monitors, IV pump, and the thick white bandage on his upper arm. He dozed off whenever she went away, but he was easier to rouse each time she returned. On her last visit, she lifted the head of his bed and set a tiny Styrofoam cup of ice on the overbed table within reach of his good hand. 

There was no TV in the recovery unit for distraction, only the hushed sounds of the nurses talking and the occasional moan from an uncomfortable patient. With nothing to divert his attention, memories of the evening started flooding back to him. Nervously he plucked at the frayed end of the sling cradling his left arm to give him something to do with his hands…or hand, since only one of them was free to do anything at the moment.

He got shot. That asshole Alastair had pointed a gun at him and pulled the trigger. There was an extra hole in his body that shouldn’t be there. Had the bullet hit just a hand’s span to the right, he might not be waking up here in the recovery unit. He might not have woken up at all.

He remembered seeing Benny motionless on the ground and the manic gleam in Alastair’s eye before he fired his gun. That instant in time came back to him with startling clarity, the weight of his weapon in his hands, the crack of gunfire, the tang of gun powder, the way his pistol smoked in the cold air when he returned fire. What happened immediately after that was a blur of gushing blood, flashing lights, screaming sirens, and people rushing around in semi-controlled chaos. The last thing he remembered was Cas’s blue eyes looking at him, strangely sad and happy at the same time, when Dean said…

_Goddamn mouth._

Yet again, he’d told the guy he loved him when one of them wasn’t completely lucid. But, he’d been scared that he wouldn’t have a chance to tell Cas, and he’d desperately needed Cas to know before they took him away, before Dean left him. He could hear Benny’s voice in his head calling him a chicken.

 _Benny._ Jesus, there had been so much blood. Dean could still feel the warm stickiness of it on his fingers. Thankfully, when he looked down at his hands, they were clean. That could have been him. He could have been the one who banged on the Silvers’ door, the one shot less than an arm’s length away from the end of the gun pointed in his direction. Maybe it should have been him. 

Dammit, his partner had a family who needed him, a wife and two little girls who would be crushed if the big man died. He wouldn’t put it past God to take a good man away from his family. Tears welled up at the thought and he roughly brushed them away with a fist. Dean might have lost his faith in God a long time ago, but he had faith in Benny.

He thumped his head back against the pillow and closed his eyes. He needed to jump off this train of thought before it derailed into the all too familiar murky swamp of misery and self-loathing. If there was one thing he learned at the academy, it was that he shouldn’t jump to conclusions before he had all the facts. He’d just have to hold fast to the hope that Benny was ok.

Lucky for Dean, Nurse Mosely chose that moment to bring him a six-foot, four-inch, floppy haired distraction.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam said tremulously as the nurse closed the curtain around the bed to give them some privacy. 

“Heya, Sammy,” he croaked with a half-smile. His throat was still raw from the tube that had been shoved down it during surgery despite the ice he’d been sucking on for the last fifteen minutes. 

Poor Sam. He looked like he’d been through the ringer. His eyes were red rimmed, aggravated like he had been rubbing them constantly to keep from crying. No matter how grown up he got, whenever something bad happened, Sam still looked like a 10-year-old who just found out his dog had been run over. Dean lifted his good arm and gestured to him. “C’mere.”

Carefully, the moose-man stooped down to get his arms wrapped around his brother. His breath was warm against Dean’s ear. “Christ, Dean.”

“Hey, it comes with the job. You know that.” The angle of the hug was awkward and a little painful, but Dean wasn’t about to let go too soon. He closed his eyes tight and gripped the back of Sam’s neck holding him firmly in place. He needed this just as much as Sam did. Nothing grounded him and set him at ease quite like his brother. The thoughts that had been circling rampantly through his morphine-addled brain fled as soon as he could focus on making sure Sam was ok.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it or stop worrying about you.” He finally let go of Dean, but reached down to grab his right hand, squeezing his fingers.

Dean’s eyes fell down to their hands. For one brief instant he saw much smaller, grubbier hands entwined together on top of the white hospital blanket from the time six-year-old Sam had held his hand and refused to let go while the Dean got three stitches along his hairline after falling off his bike.

“How’s Benny?” he said tightening his hand around Sam’s reassuringly. 

Sam tugged his hair back from his face with his free hand and sighed. “The OR called just before I left the waiting room to say they were finishing up. Bullet nicked an artery and he lost a lot of blood. But, they say he should be ok as long as he doesn’t develop any complications over the next 48 hours. They’re going to take him straight to the ICU just as a precaution.”

Dean nodded. It wasn’t much information, but it was better than none at all. At least the doctors thought Benny was going to make it. “Andrea and the girls?”

Sam shrugged. “They’re doing as well as can be expected. Andrea’s brother-in-law’s at their house with the girls. They were already asleep when the call came in. I don’t think Andrea’s told them yet. Her sister’s here with her.” 

Nurse Mosely returned, interrupting them before Dean could ask questions about how things had gone down at the crime scene. “Sorry to break up the reunion boys, but you’re getting a room upgrade, Mr. Winchester.”

Sam gave Dean’s hand one final squeeze before letting go. “We’ll meet you up there.”

"Is Cas still here?" It was weird that the doctor hadn’t already stopped by. Surely being on staff here meant he could walk through just about any “Authorized Access Only” door without question. But, Dean had been in recovery for over an hour without Cas showing up. Maybe this was a wake-up call for him; maybe he came to the conclusion that he didn’t want deal with all the crap that came with dating a cop. God knows, it wouldn’t be the first time someone used that as an excuse to dump his ass. Dean swallowed hard against the lump growing in this throat.

“Yeah. He tried to come with me, but the guy at the door was pretty insistent on one visitor at a time.”

Dean didn’t even bother to hide how relived he was to know that the doctor hadn’t hightailed it away from his gimp self as fast as he could. He rolled his eyes. “Give some people the tiniest bit of authority and it goes to their heads.”

With a small smile, Sam gently patted Dean’s good arm before leaving him to the care of the nurses bustling around his bed, preparing him for the move to another room.

*****

There was a detective waiting to take Dean’s statement now that he was awake enough to provide them with some basic information about what happened when he and Benny arrived on scene. Afterwards, though it was well past visiting hours, Jess, Bobby, and Ellen all got to make sure Dean was all in one piece with their own eyes before the nurses shooed them out. The nurses in charge of the unit were much more lenient with bending the visitation rules than the one in charge downstairs.

Castiel nursed a cup of lukewarm, weak decaf in the vending room down the hall, letting Dean’s family have their time with him. He needed a few minutes to himself after spending the last few hours in a crowded waiting room full anxious people. He wasn’t used to being on this side of things, unable to do anything but wait for the phone at the surgical check-in desk to ring with an update. It was unnerving how helpless he felt.

Bobby and Ellen waved to him on their way to the elevator. The Singers had manned the phones calling everybody and letting them know what happened so they wouldn’t wake up to hear about it on the morning news. Everybody who lived in town and half the Lawrence Police Department showed up to the hospital within the first hour of surgery. The older couple looked exhausted, but not quite as grave as they had looked before getting to see Dean. They would head downstairs and give one last update to the folks still hanging around in the waiting room before calling it a night.

A few minutes later, Sam and Jess stopped in the doorway.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam called softly, pulling Castiel’s attention away from the murky depths of his half empty coffee cup. “Dean’s asking for you.”

A tiny smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as he stood up and tossed his cup in the trash. Before he could squeeze past Sam and Jess, Sam grabbed hold of his shoulders, holding him in place and pinning him with a serious look.

“If him getting hurt like this changes the way you feel about him, at least wait until he’s better to break up with him.” Sam was pretty intimidating when drew himself up straight and used his full height to tower over someone.

“Sam,” Jess admonished softly.

Castiel understood where Sam was coming from. They hadn’t had the _you- hurt-my-brother-and-I’ll-kill-you_ talk yet, so he imagined this would take its place for now. “I have no intention of ever leaving your brother.”

Relief washed over Sam’s face as he pulled the doctor’s close, crushing him tightly to his chest. Castiel felt a smaller pair of arms wrap around his waist and a head come to rest between his shoulder blades, making him the middle of a Winchester sandwich. He was so caught off guard by the double-hug that his arms ended up trapped awkwardly at his sides.

“Good because I have never seen my brother so crazy for someone before,” Sam said as he and Jess both let go of Castiel.

Jess stepped around to give him a peck on the cheek. “You working tomorrow?”

“I’m on-call,” he replied, glancing down at his watch. It was edging towards three o’clock in the morning. “I think I’ll just stay here.”

They said their goodbyes and Castiel waited until they disappeared into the elevator before he headed towards Dean’s room. He felt better after his admission to Sam and Jess, felt like the world was a little easier to deal with now that someone else knew that nothing would keep him from sticking close to Dean. The door was open, but he still knocked before entering.

“Hey,” Dean said with a sleepy smile when Castiel walked in. The nurse was hanging a new bag of IV fluids on the pole by the bed.

Castiel sat down heavily in the chair pulled up close to the bedside and laid his hand on Dean’s thigh. “How’re you feeling?”

He shrugged his uninjured shoulder. “Better now that you’re here.”

“I’m pretty sure you feel better because she just finished dosing you with morphine.” He chuckled, catching the nurse’s eye as she held up the empty syringe of painkiller that she had just pushed into Dean’s IV.

“Drugs and Cas, best things ever,” Dean said, eyelids drooping.

The nurse snickered softly as she tossed the syringe in the red sharps box on the wall. “Ok, Mr. Winchester. I’ll let you sleep now. I’ll be checking on you every hour so, but I’ll try to not wake you up. If you need anything, just push the call button on the bed.”

“Mmm,” he hummed softly in response.

She turned to Castiel. “Will you be staying with him?”

At his nod, she walked over to the armoire where the TV sat to grab an extra pillow and blanket and set them both in the recliner in the corner of the room. After the nurse left the room, Castiel moved over to sit on the edge of Dean’s bed. He gently cupped the injured man’s face in his hand. Green eyes flickered open.

“Hey,” Dean repeated, likely having already forgotten the past couple of minutes. The way Dean looked at him always made Castiel’s heart flutter in his chest, and now was no exception even though he was loopy on pain medication.

“Hey,” Castiel said softly. “I’m going to stay with you, ok?”

Dean nodded, the stubble of his jaw rasping against Castiel’s palms.

Castiel leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead, lingering for just a moment before pulling back to look at Dean again. His eyes were closed, lips parted just slightly; his breathing was deep and even. Castiel brushed his thumbs over Dean’s cheeks. He couldn’t, wouldn’t give up on Dean. If their time was limited, then he’d hang on to every single moment as though it was the most precious.

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” he murmured softly. “And if you don’t remember me saying it when you wake up, that’s ok because I will say it to you every day for the rest of your life.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have overcome my holiday laziness!

Twenty-four hours post-surgery was more than enough time to realize that hospitals weren’t a fun place to be. The never ending stream of people parading through Dean’s room didn’t allow him to get much rest and the persistent interruptions set him on edge. 

 

The nursing assistant came in every hour to check his vital signs and the nurse stopped by every two hours to do her assessment. A breakfast tray of lumpy oatmeal, dry scrambled eggs, and room temperature toast with a half-inch smear of butter substitute arrived bright and early at 7am, just four hours after Dean fell asleep post-surgery. Sam stopped by at 8:30 on his way to work and dropped off a duffle bag of stuff – pajamas, underwear, socks, toothbrush and toothpaste, and a change of clothes. He was smart enough to realize that t-shirts wouldn’t be easy for his brother to get into, so he brought a couple of button-up plaid flannel shirts instead. 

 

At 10:30, the surgeon met with Dean to go over exactly what happened in surgery and to talk about the outlook for his recovery. Dr. Holmes planned to discharge Dean the following afternoon as long as he didn’t develop any complications or show any signs of infection in the meantime. He would be in a sling for at least four weeks, keeping his shoulder immobilized as much as possible. Once the surgeon was satisfied that the bone was healing and stable, then she would prescribe physical therapy. Since the injury was to his non-dominant arm, she felt he should be able to tolerate going back to work – administrative desk job only – in two months and could possibly be released back to active duty next fall if all went well. 

 

At 11:15, the physical therapist showed him some exercises to keep his left wrist and fingers active even though his arm was immobilized. Lunch came halfway through the physical therapy session and the tray ended up sitting on the bedside table for 20 minutes. By then, Dean was too hungry to turn his nose up at the gloppy potato soup and cold grilled cheese sandwich. 

 

Ellen checked in shortly after 1 o’clock, bringing a slice of her homemade pecan pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream that Dean inhaled in less than a minute. Cas got a page during her visit and had to head down to the ED. Dean managed to get a half-hour nap between Ellen leaving and Captain Hendrickson showing up with an outrageously huge bouquet of flowers from the department and a card signed by everybody he could get his hands on. 

 

The captain brought news that the doctors were planning to discharge Benny from ICU and send him to the surgical recovery unit in the morning. He didn’t give much of an update on the incident other than to say it seemed to be pretty cut and dry as far as the shooting was concerned. Nobody was denying that Dean was justified in firing his weapon at the suspect. The detectives assigned to the case were working on what let up to the original call and Lilith’s involvement to see if she should be charged for anything. She was currently recovering from two gunshot wounds on a different floor with an officer posted outside her room. Hendrickson told Dean to focus on getting better for the time being and promised any kind of support the department could offer. 

 

Bobby stopped by on his way home from work, bringing the latest issue of _Car and Driver_ and a strawberry milkshake. Sam brought burgers and fries from the Roadhouse for supper and hung around long enough to eat and watch _Wheel of Fortune_. Jess popped in for a few minutes before her evening shift started downstairs. 

 

By 9 o’clock, Cas still hadn’t returned from the ED and Dean had been sitting in the recliner alone for over an hour with one leg bouncing non-stop as he punched through the TV channels too fast to even notice what was on. He had tried to sleep after Sam left, but the suddenly quiet room wouldn’t let his mind disengage from fixating on the previous night’s events. 

 

He pulled his gun out, fired, and killed somebody last night. It didn’t matter that the guy tried to kill him and his partner. It didn’t matter that Dean was forced to shoot in self-defense. It didn’t matter that his actions probably saved other people. One minute Alistair was standing there in front of him, living and breathing, and the next, he was lying dead in his front yard with a hole through his chest. Sure he was the creepiest son of a bitch Dean had ever met in his life, but that still didn’t make him feel any better about killing the bastard. 

 

Dean could still feel the tension of the trigger moving under his index finger, the shock of the kick-back tingling through his right hand. He let go of the remote and curled his hand into a fist, squeezing tightly in an attempt to shake off the phantom feeling. 

 

A shot rang out causing him to flinch in surprise. 

 

The TV had stopped on channel 5 where the boys of _Hawaii Five-0_ were shooting bad guys left and right with no hesitation. Steve McGarrett wouldn’t be on paid administrative leave for killing a suspect and putting an untold number of goons in the hospital, wouldn’t have mandatory counseling sessions with the police department’s shrink before he could go back to work. Oh look, Steve got shot in the shoulder and tied a kitchen towel around his arm. All better! Next week, he wouldn’t even have a fucking scar. No physical therapy for the invincible former Navy SEAL. By the end of the episode, Honolulu’s finest would be kicked back at the Hilton Hawaiian Village with a few beers, the case all neatly wrapped up in an hour. 

 

With a snarl, Dean turned off the TV and threw the remote across the room. It hit the wall and clattered to the floor in pieces just as Cas returned. 

 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” the doctor asked, voice full of concern as he hurried over to kneel by the side of the chair. His hands reached out, but Dean shied away, body thrumming with too much nervous energy to stand being touched. “Are you ok?” 

 

He shook his head, closing his eyes and pressing the heel of his right hand against his brow as though that might slow down his spinning thoughts. _Gunfire. Smoke. Heart racing. Lungs heaving. Fear. Blood. Pain. Flashing lights. Squealing sirens. Shouting. People rushing around. Blackness pressing against his vision._

 

The gentle pressure of Cas’s fingertips brushing over the white bandage on his shoulder brought him back to the hospital room. “Does your arm hurt?” 

 

“It’s held together with shit from somebody’s tool box. Yes, it fucking hurts,” Dean growled through gritted teeth. 

 

Cas leaned over to push the call button on the bed and relay the need for a dose of pain medication to the nurse out at the desk. He risked his life by attempting to touch Dean again, but reached out anyway, tentatively running his fingers through Dean’s hair. “Did you get a chance to rest after Ellen left?” 

 

“No.” Dean held himself stubbornly rigid against Cas’s effort to soothe away his distress. By the time Ellen showed up, he was already tired of visitors, but he now realized that they were the only thing diverting his attention away from what had happened. 

 

“Do you want something to help you sleep?” 

 

“I don’t want a god damned sedative. I want to not be here anymore,” Dean snapped and immediately regretted his tone as soon as Cas dropped his hand from his head. He deflated instantly, sagging tiredly into the recliner and wincing as the motion jostled his aching arm. Lashing out at Cas was the last thing he wanted to do, but it just came out, a knee-jerk reaction by the wounded animal inside of him that just wanted to be left alone to wallow in misery. 

 

Cas silently pushed himself up from the floor and headed out of the room. Sighing, Dean watched the doctor leave, losing the company and comfort of the only person the rational part of him wanted to have close by at the moment. He was officially the worst patient in the world. Cas was only trying to help and Dean bit his head off. If he was lucky, the doctor would come back with an elephant tranquilizer that would knock him out for the next few days so nobody would have to put up with him. 

 

Maybe if he went to bed, he’d eventually fall asleep and wake up in a better mood tomorrow. Slowly and carefully, he stood up from the chair and shuffled around the bed to the bathroom, dragging the IV pole with him. He could at least pretend to be asleep when Cas came back. If Cas came back. After he finished in the bathroom, he climbed into bed and arranged the pillows like the nurse had showed him earlier in the day, building a barricade to support his left shoulder and discourage him from rolling over onto it in his sleep. 

 

He turned off the light over the bed and closed his eyes. The room was too dark and too still. He could hear random noises out in the hallway – people talking, footsteps coming and going past his door, equipment moving around the tiled floor in the hallway, the ping of the elevator doors. But, the sounds were too unpredictable to help him drift off to sleep. Sighing, he scrubbed his free hand down his face wishing that he’d said yes to the sedative Cas offered. 

 

It was time for an old diversion technique he hadn’t employed in years. His mom used to sing _Hey Jude_ to him when he was little and couldn’t sleep. In the months immediately following her death, he often imagined her voice singing _Na Na Na Nana Na Na_ when the unfamiliarity of the motel room they were staying in kept him from falling asleep. Later on, he’d sing to Sammy after nightmares woke his little brother in the middle of the night. When he got older and sleep eluded him, he’d sing through his favorite albums to clear his mind. 

 

He was halfway through _Led Zeppelin II_ when Cas returned. 

 

“Dean, are you awake?” he asked quietly from the doorway. 

 

“Yeah,” he replied, sitting up to hit the switch for the light. He rubbed the side of his neck where the sling’s strap was digging into his skin. “Look, Cas, I’m sorry I snapped at you. It’s just…” 

 

“It’s ok,” Cas gently interrupted as he sat down on the edge of the bed and laid a hand on Dean’s thigh. His smile was soft and understanding. “I called Hester and she’s willing to discharge you tonight if you want to leave the hospital.” 

 

Dean blinked. “But, she was planning to keep me for at least another whole day.” 

 

“I told her that you weren’t getting the rest that you needed here and promised her that I’d be with you for the next 36 hours.” The doctor idly ran his hand along the blanket covering Dean’s leg. The touch was calming and very much welcome. 

 

“You don’t have to babysit me on your day off,” he said guiltily. 

 

“I’d rather spend my day off with you at home than at the hospital,” Cas replied with a shrug. “One of the nurses is packing a bag of supplies and the pharmacy is sending up a couple of prescriptions. Plus I have some alternative therapies in mind that you might find beneficial, but aren’t exactly hospital sanctioned.” 

 

“Oh?” 

 

Cas just raised a brow suggestively. 

 

“Oh!” Dean brightened immediately and quickly flipped back the bed covers. “Wanna help me get dressed?” 

 

~~~~~ 

 

An hour later, Dean was dosing in Cas’s bed with _Robot Chicken_ playing quietly on the TV while the doctor was in the shower. The Vicodin he’d taken just before leaving the hospital was making him feel pleasantly sluggish. He had tried to argue with Cas about just dropping him off at his apartment, but the doctor was firm in bringing him to his house instead. The fact that Dean’s fridge was emptier than a grocery store before a snow storm may have made him concede the argument a little faster than normal. 

 

When Cas walked out of the bathroom, bare-chested, fluffy haired, and smelling like Irish Spring, Dean gave him a crooked grin. “So, will you just bill my insurance for this private nursing thing?” 

 

He huffed a little laugh as he dug through the black bag sitting on his dresser. “I’m sure we can make an arrangement for compensation.” 

 

“Oh, hey. You’ve got one of those old timey doctor bags like in the movies.” 

 

“Yeah, Gabriel gave it to me when I finished medical school. I think it was supposed to be a joke, but it’s actually quite useful.” He pulled out his stethoscope and looped it around his neck before coming to sit on the side of the bed. 

 

“My very own Dr. Sexy,” Dean murmured softly. 

 

Cas smiled as he gently undid the dressing on Dean’s shoulder to assess his surgical wound for any signs of infection. The four-inch long incision was intersected by a dozen, neatly placed staples. There was no unusual swelling, redness, or warmth to the site. The doctor taped a fresh gauze bandage to the area. 

 

“How are you feeling?” Cas helped him sit up. 

 

“Better. Like I could actually sleep.” His eyes drifted closed as Cas leaned forward to slide the diaphragm of his stethoscope under Dean’s shirt to listen to his heart and lungs. 

 

“Wiggle your fingers for me,” he instructed softly. “Any tingling or pain in your hand?” 

 

“No.” Dean flexed the fingers of his left hand and rotated his wrist. 

 

Satisfied with his assessment, Cas stood from the bed to put away his stethoscope and the dressing supplies. “You can have another dose of pain meds in four hours or so if you need it. I’ll set the alarm to check on you then. 

 

Dean carefully crawled under the covers. He liked Cas’s bed. The pale gray sheets were super smooth and soft, much nicer than the cheap ten-year-old set from Walmart currently stretched across his own bed. The room was a little cool since Cas hadn’t been home all day and the heat had been turned down to save electricity, but the big white down comforter more than made up for the lack of heat. He’d much rather curl up in a blanket-burrito in a chilly room than be kicking off covers in an overly warm room. 

 

“Where are you going?” he asked as Cas headed for the door. 

 

“To make a sandwich. You want something?” He paused, leaning his hip against the doorjamb. 

 

Shaking his head, he asked, “Coming back?” 

 

“If you want me to.” 

 

Dean gave him an unconvincing little lift of his shoulder. 

 

The doctor crossed back over to the bed and leaned down to lay his hand against Dean’s stubbled cheek. Dean turned into the touch, closing his eyes and kissing Cas’s palm. He didn’t deserve this man’s time and affection, but he wanted it more than anything else in the world. Reaching out, he tugged on Cas’s arm, tilting his chin up in a blatant plea for a kiss, which the other man readily supplied. Between the Vicodin and kiss, Dean was more than a little lightheaded when Cas finally pulled back. 

 

“Go to sleep, Dean. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He smiled, bright and sweet, stroking his long fingers through Dean’s hair before leaving the bed. 

 

“Hey, Cas,” he called hesitantly. _He could do this._ “I love you.” 

 

Cas stopped and looked over his shoulder, his smile wide and so full of love that it made Dean’s chest ache in a good way. “I know.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! A new chapter! Finally. :) I got stuck after the last one and wasn't quite sure what to do next. The scene at the bottom came out of nowhere. Totally surprised me, but I like it a lot! I might have gotten a bit misty-eyed while I wrote it. Enjoy!

Castiel rolled over, face planting flat onto the mattress when there wasn’t a warm body there to break his momentum.  He frowned and threw his arm out in an attempt to drag Dean back to the middle of the bed so he could snuggle up against the other man, but the sheets were cold and empty.  Sitting up, he scratched his head and yawned while his sleepy brain struggled to get all the cogs and gears turning.  Slowly, he remembered that Dean had gone to stay with Sam and Jess while Castiel was working a God-awful week of 12-on, 12-off shifts.  Dean had argued (and won) that Castiel didn't need to bother with looking after him and dealing with a hellacious schedule at the hospital at the same time. 

 

The past few days had been miserable in the emergency department.  Flu season was gearing up and dozens of people flocked to the ER every hour at the first sign of the sniffles.  Most of them just needed a dose of Dayquil and a box of tissues, not a visit with a doctor, and were righteously indignant when he wouldn't write them a prescription for Amoxicillin; nobody believed that antibiotics didn’t work against a virus. 

 

The 12 hours off between shifts were just long enough for him to shower, scarf down some food that didn't come from a vending machine, and pass out in bed.  Yesterday’s 12-on shift had turned into a 24-hour long shift when a doctor and three nurses called in sick at the last minute and they couldn’t find anybody within a 50-mile radius to come fill in on such short notice.  Thankfully, Castiel had the next two days off before going starting another week of 12-on-12-off shifts that wouldn’t end until seven a.m. on December 27th.

 

He squinted at the alarm clock on the nightstand.  It was only 10:30.  Dim gray morning light filtered in from the crack in the heavy curtains covering the windows.  Groaning, he flopped back down.  He’d been asleep for less than three hours, but now that he was awake, he was hungry and missed Dean.  There was no chance of going back to sleep without remedying one or the other, preferably both.

 

With sluggish, half asleep motions, he dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom to brush the sour taste out of his mouth.  He pulled on a pair of threadbare sweatpants and a ratty long-sleeved t-shirt before heading out the door for the short walk across the street.  There was a light dusting of snow on the ground that he didn't remember being there when he pulled into his driveway just a few hours ago.  It wasn't currently snowing, but dark gray snow clouds hung heavy overhead.  An icy breeze blew through the mesh of his running shoes and over his toes as he jogged up the steps of the Winchesters' front porch making him realize that he’d forgotten to put on socks.

 

He knocked on the door hoping someone was home to let him in before he froze to death just because he had been too exhausted to bother putting on proper clothes for going outside in December.

 

Dean answered the door, his brow immediately furrowing with concern at Castiel’s rumpled, partially dressed appearance.   His left arm was out of its sling, but he was holding it bent and tucked close to his torso.  His hair was sticking up in dark, damp spikes.  “Hey, Cas.  You’re supposed to be off with Mr. Sandman right now.”

 

“Woke up hungry,” he grumbled as Dean leaned in for a kiss and shepherded him into the blessedly warm house.  They passed by the garland and ribbon festooned bannister that led upstairs and headed towards the kitchen.  Castiel shuffled to the breakfast nook, plopping down at the little round table where a family of three snowmen in brightly colored sweaters and hats stood on a mound of fluffy quilt batting.

 

“Me and Charlie just restocked your pantry and fridge the day before yesterday while you were at work, so there should be something to eat at your place.”  Dean headed over to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice.

                                                                                    

“Nobody there to eat with,” he said peevishly, making Dean laugh as he poured the juice into a glass with his right hand.

 

“Oh, I see.  Miss me already, huh?” 

 

"Yes," Castiel confessed unashamedly as he propped his chin against the heel of his palm.  He smiled sleepily up at Dean when he handed him the glass of juice. 

 

After Dean was discharged from the hospital, Castiel had taken the following three days off of work so he could personally monitor Dean's post-surgery recovery.  They had spent every minute of that time together, never leaving Cas’s house.  Thankfully somebody showed up with a casserole dish or bag of take-out every few hours so they didn’t starve.  Castiel happily played nurse for his injured boyfriend, keeping on top of the schedule for his pain medication and distracting him with naked sponge baths that they both enjoyed a little too much. 

 

"I can't really pull off scrambled eggs and pancakes with only one arm.  Is cereal ok?" Dean asked going back to the fridge.

 

Castiel nodded, suddenly feeling bad that Dean was taking care of him less than two weeks after being discharged from the hospital.  He stood up to get a bowl and spoon while Dean pulled out the milk.  "Do you think Jess will mind if I have some of her Cocoa Pebbles?"

 

"Nah.  Grab me a bowl and spoon too.  You don't want to break your teeth on Sam's Kashi crap?"  Dean opened the cabinet to get the box of sugary cereal.

 

"Bleh," he replied with a distasteful sneer as he pulled out a second bowl and spoon for Dean.

 

They settled at the little table in the windowed corner of the kitchen, facing each other and quietly crunching through their cereal.  The quiet was comfortable, neither of them feeling the need to fill the silence with idle chatter even though they hadn't seen each other in days.  They'd been like this back at Castiel's house too, content to veg out on the couch or in the bed together watching TV. 

 

When they were finished eating, Castiel stacked their dishes and took them over to the sink.  He was a little more awake now that he'd had some fuel in his belly, but figured he wouldn't have too much trouble going back to bed after a while.  He hoped that when he went back to sleep, it wouldn't be in an empty bed. 

 

"How's your arm?" he asked when Dean came to stand next to him at the sink while he washed the bowls and spoons.

 

"Good.  I'll be glad to get the staples out tomorrow."  He pulled a dish towel out of the drawer next to the sink and set it on the counter.  He lifted up his t-shirt sleeve and looked down at the incision on his upper bicep.  “It’s kinda itchy.”

 

"That’s a common complaint.  What’s your pain level?" Castiel took the towel and started drying one of the bowls while casting a critical eye over Dean’s surgical site.  The skin around the incision looked as expected, shiny and pink with the evidence of healing.  Dean looked good too when Castiel gave him a quick head-to-toe scan.  He obviously had a good appetite since he’d put away two bowlfuls of cereal in the time it took Castiel to sleepily munch his way through one.  Though he was supporting his bent left arm with his right hand cupped under his elbow, he wasn't showing any signs of acute pain.

 

"Bearable.  I'm not taking as many pills as a few days ago, but I still need one when I get up and one before I go to bed."  Dean flexed his left hand before curling his fingers into his palm and then unfurling them one by one like the physical therapist had shown him before he left the hospital.

 

"You should be wearing your sling, you know," Castiel chided gently.

 

"Yeah, I know.  I had just gotten dressed after taking a shower when you knocked and that thing's a bitch to put on one handed."

 

"I can help you."  He dried his hands on the towel before reaching out to slide an arm around Dean's waist, pulling him close.  Now that his stomach was appeased, the rest of him just wanted to be close to the man that made his heart flutter with just a look.

 

"Ok, but only if Dr. Novak takes a hike so I can have some alone time with my boyfriend since I haven't seen him in a week."  Dean chuckled as Castiel nuzzled his face into his neck.

 

"Sorry.  Habit," he whispered warmly against Dean's skin, feeling properly chastised for slipping back into doctor mode.  He grinned tiredly as Dean kissed him before heading out of the kitchen to get his sling.

 

While he waited for Dean to come back downstairs, Castiel crossed into the living room where a huge Frasier fir dominated one corner of the room.  It was artfully decorated with dozens of glass balls, curls of ribbon, and yards of roping, all in reds, greens, and golds.  He'd been too busy to bother pulling out the box of meager decorations stored down in the basement.  Most of his holiday stuff was piecemealed leftovers from his college years when everybody in student housing went overboard on cheap, tacky holiday decorations.  He supposed he should probably go shopping for new decorations now that he had his own house to adorn with garlands, wreaths, strings of lights, and baubles – a house that was worthy of more than a fake 3-foot tree that was missing a foot and half its branches, a pair of yard flamingos with Santa hats on their heads, and a plastic blow-up Rudolph that had a battery-powered light-up nose.

 

"Do you feel up for a shopping trip?" he asked when Dean came back a few minutes later holding out the sling.

 

"You just got off a 24-hour shift at the hospital.  Wouldn’t you rather sleep?" Dean retorted as he stood still so Castiel could carefully fasten on the sling and secure his arm to his chest.

 

"I need Christmas décor,” he mumbled as he adjusted the strap across Dean’s back.  “Is that too tight?"

 

"No, it's good.”  Dean turned around to look at him.  ”You need sleep, doc.  You look like the walking dead."

 

Castiel glanced over to the large square mirror above the miniature Christmas village spread out across the mantel.  He supposed he did look rather haggard – dark circles beneath his eyes, scruffy cheeks, mussed hair.  And, he _was_ still really sleepy. 

 

"How about bed now, Home Depot later?" Dean compromised, sliding his free arm around Castiel's waist and slipping his hand up under the hem of his shirt to find bare skin.

 

"Will you come with me?"  He nuzzled his nose under Dean's ear, inhaling the warm, familiar scent of clean boyfriend.

 

"To bed or Home Depot?"

 

"Both."

 

Dean chuckled.  "Yeah.  Let's head over to your house and get you back in bed.  Gotta love those room darkening shades, man."

 

Within ten minutes, they were in Castiel's pleasantly dark bedroom, wrapped up together under the down comforter.

 

*****

 

“Hey, Cas!  Look at that!” Dean called from the first aisle of holiday decorations.

 

Cas came up to his side and followed his line of sight up to the shelf overhead where all of the inflatable and lighted yard decorations were on display.  There was a six-foot tall giraffe wearing a Santa hat and an equally tall Eiffel Tower made out of white-coated wire looming over the other decorations.  “They’ll put lights on anything and call it a Christmas decoration.”

 

"Yeah," Dean laughed.   “So, what’s your Christmas style?”

 

“Christmas style?” he asked, head tilted slightly to one side.

 

“Yeah.  You know, traditional, modern, rustic, shabby chic…”  He paused and glanced over to Cas for his opinion.  The doctor was looking at him amusingly with one brow raised over a bright blue eye.  “Don’t look at me like that.  I’ve been cooped up at Sam and Jess’s for almost a week and the only magazines in the can are Christmas decorating ones,” he complained sheepishly.

 

Cas chuckled and passed by him pushing the big orange shopping cart.  “I think I’ll start out with a tree and some lights and ornaments.  I’ll hardly be home to enjoy any of it, but it doesn’t feel right going the whole holiday without at least putting up a tree.”

 

They picked out a pre-lit, seven-foot tall, artificial Balsam Fir that would look beautiful framed by the big picture window in Cas’s living room and few sets of shatter-resistant ornaments in traditional Christmas reds and greens.  Dean threw a red velvet tree skirt trimmed in gold into the cart and grabbed a timer to plug the lights into so Cas wouldn’t have to worry about turning the tree on and off every day.  Cas found a wreath of grapevine and red winter berries for the front door and a pair of matching red and white stockings and silver star-shaped stocking holders for the mantel in the den.

                                                                                                                                   

After filling the cart with Christmas decorating basics, they meandered up and down the rest of the aisles.  A hardware store was the best place for making plans and dreaming big.  Dean pointed out all of the power tools he wanted to put in a garage someday.  Cas ran his hand along the flooring samples, wondering aloud if it would be worth pulling up the downstairs carpet to put in wood floors.  They looked in refrigerators and ovens, debated the merits of front load versus top load washers, and rang the doorbells until one of the sales associates pointedly asked them if they needed assistance.

 

They were looking at drawer pulls when Cas excused himself to run to the restroom and said he’d meet Dean up the checkouts.

 

Dean had never had so much fun at Home Depot before.  He’d never had reason to come in just to look around.  Usually, he beelined to whatever piece of hardware he needed for whatever project he was working on and then headed straight to the checkout.  He rented his apartment, so it wasn’t like he could rip out the tub and put in a new shower stall or paint the walls a different color no matter how much he hated the dingy, eggshell color they were currently painted.  Jess did most of the decision making when she and Sam moved into their house several years ago; the two brothers quickly learned that their opinion wasn’t needed, even though one of them had his name on the mortgage.  Cas had asked him if he thought the black and white subway tile would look nice as a backsplash in the kitchen and if a pedestal sink was a good choice for the downstairs powder room, and Dean actually liked giving his opinion, especially when Cas nodded in thought and seemed to really consider whatever argument he might offer for something different.  It was a welcome distraction to take his mind off of the bum arm strapped to his side for a little while.

 

Cas was taking an extra-long pee break, so Dean detoured to the garden department to pick up a poinsettia.  There were huge ones, tiny ones, red ones, white ones, and marbled ones; the variety nowadays was just crazy.  The pink ones had always been his mom’s favorite.  He settled the biggest pink one he could find into the kid’s seat of the shopping cart.

 

“Can we take a detour on the way home?” he asked when Cas came back over to the Christmas department where Dean was waiting for him.

 

“Sure.  Do you want to grab lunch first?”

 

“Yeah, that’d be great.”  Dean tagged along behind Cas as they made their way to the busy checkout lanes.

 

When they settled back into Cas’s BMW after lunch at the Wendy’s in the shopping center, the doctor turned to him.  “Ok, where to now?”

 

“You know that little white church down the road from Bobby’s house?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I uh…I want to go there,” he said with uncertainty.  If Cas thought it was a weird request, he didn’t say anything as he pulled the car out of the restaurant parking lot.

 

They passed through town, heading out towards the city limits.  Neighborhoods thinned out to rolling farmland dotted with copses of wooded areas.  About a mile before the turn-off to Bobby and Ellen’s place, Cas pulled into the driveway of Riverside United Methodist Church.  The mid-nineteenth century white clapboard building with its tall steeple and wreath-bedecked double front door looked like it belonged on a Hallmark Christmas card.

 

Dean hadn’t been inside the church in over a decade, but he suspected it looked the same as it had when he was a teenager.  The folks who worshipped there had always held fast to the antique charm of their little place of sanctuary.  He could remember hanging off the back of the pew in front of him while the congregation stood up to sing hymns on Sunday mornings.  His mom would smile down at him and hold out the hymnbook for him to look at even though, at the time, he couldn’t read the words printed on the page.  He could remember being sandwiched between Bobby and a very wiggly Sam with Aunt Karen on Sam’s other side during the special services on Easter morning and Christmas Eve night.  Those were the only times Aunt Karen could convince her husband to go to church; those were also the only times, as a kid, that Dean ever saw Bobby without a hat on, hair neatly parted and combed, beard trimmed tidy under his chin.  Dean still stopped by the church a few times every year, but he never went inside anymore.

 

Before opening the car door, he turned to Cas.  “You can stay in the car if you want.”

 

The doctor smiled gently.  “I’d like to come with you, if that’s ok.”

 

In that instant, Dean fell a little harder for the blue-eyed man in the driver’s seat.  He nodded and got out of the car, wrapping his right arm around the poinsettia’s pot.  Cas quickly came up to his side a few steps away from the car and took the plant from him so he could twine their gloved fingers together.

 

With a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, Dean bumped his shoulder gently against Cas.  “Sorry, I thought this might be a little weird for you.”

 

“They’re your family too, Dean.”

 

They walked, hand-in-hand, down the lines of headstones in the church’s graveyard.  Every now and then there was a familiar name carved into the stone, Singer, Harvelle, Fitzgerald, Shurley, long dead ancestors of the people they knew and loved.  Dean weaved his way expertly between the rows until he got to a corner of the cemetery that was made up mostly of people named Campbell.  They stopped in front of the light gray granite headstone that read _Mary Campbell Winchester, February 27, 1954 – November 2, 1983, In Loving Memory._

 

Dean watched as Cas knelt down next to the hip-high monument to clear away the few dead leaves littering its base before centering the poinsettia on the ground in front of it.  He stood back up and laced his fingers with Dean’s again.

 

After clearing his throat, Dean addressed the tombstone.  “Uh, hey, mom.  This is Cas.  Remember me talking about him the last time I was out here?”

 

He could sense Cas’s eyes on the side of his face, but he didn’t turn his head.  “I...I thought it might be time to introduce you to each other.”

 

Without missing a beat, Cas said reverently, “Hello, Mrs. Winchester.”

 

“Mary,” Dean said quietly.  “She’d uh…She’d want you to call her Mary.”

 

“Mary,” he conceded with a small smile before continuing.  “Your sons are very good men, and I’m very glad to know them.”

 

Dean reached up carefully with his left hand to rub his knuckles against the corner of his eye, chuffing a soft laugh and squeezing Cas’s hand tight.  He glanced to his grandparents’ shared headstone to the left of his mom’s, and then turned to his dad’s on the right.  He gave his dad a little nod of his head, but didn’t speak directly to him.  Aunt Karen’s headstone was a little further down; it had a blank spot patiently waiting for Bobby’s name to be added when the old man finally kicked the bucket, which wouldn’t be anytime soon if Dean had any say in the matter.  They stood quietly together in the peaceful, but cold church yard for several minutes before Dean finally spoke up.

 

“C’mon.  That tree isn’t going to decorate itself.”

 

Castiel just smiled and walked along beside him.  Dean had brought him out to the church cemetery to meet his parents.  Maybe the gift he’d just had made wouldn’t be too forward for their first Christmas after all. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sorta a filler chapter. It isn't as long as the rest of them, but it contains things that I want to happen to set up the next chapter, which I'll hopefully have the inspiration to write before another month passes! Plus, I get to introduce a new work-buddy for Cas! :)

“Hey Cassie,” Balthazar said as he plunked down a stack of charts on the counter of the festively decorated nurse’s station.  Lawrence Memorial had mostly rolled over to electronic charting, but the emergency department was the last holdout, waiting for the majority of the kinks to be smoothed out of the system before giving up paper completely.   “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

 

Castiel looked up from the desk where he was skimming through charts to get ready for his first rounds of the evening.  He batted the white puff ball at the end of his Santa hat out of his eyes.  “You do know I’m in a committed relationship at the moment, right?”

 

“Not that kind of proposition, darling.  Although if you and Dean are up for a ménage à trois…” he said with a suggestive lift in his voice.

 

Castiel furrowed a brow, judging the suave Anglo-French doctor’s intentions.  He was totally serious.  “I thought you were dating Fate from Accounting.”

 

“Ménage à quatre, then?”

 

Castiel laughed and shook his head.  Dean may have a pair of lacy pink panties discretely hidden in the back of his underwear drawer and Castiel might be wondering what it’d be like to have Dean handcuff him to the headboard, but he wasn’t sure either of them was ready to dip their toes further into the kink pool just yet.

 

“Ok, well the offer stands whenever you’re ready,” Balthazar said with a wink.  “But, anyway, my _real_ proposition is this.  My flight from JFK to Charles De Gaulle has been cancelled.  Apparently there’s a massive snow storm sitting over New York right now, so I won’t be leaving for Paris until after Christmas Day.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” Castiel said with a frown, knowing how much Balthazar had been looking forward to spending the holiday with his family in France.

 

He waved off the sympathy.  “I’ll still get to see them, just a little later than planned.  But, there’s no reason for both of us to miss being with our loved ones on Christmas Day.  Let me work your shift so you can spend the whole day with Dean.”

 

Castiel just blinked.  Nobody ever willingly worked a holiday, especially not Christmas Day.  The only reason he was scheduled to work was because even after over a year on staff he was still one of the most recent hires in the department and most of the other doctors got to schedule their time off before him.  He’d accepted it with minimal grumbling, as had the Winchester clan; they’d even decided to have Christmas dinner earlier than usual just so Castiel would be able to come by before heading to the hospital for his overnight shift.

 

“Best take the offer before I rescind it and decide to spend the day alone in my apartment with the 18-year-old bottle of Macallan I was planning to give to my  88-year-old grandmother,” Balthazar said, smiling.

 

“Uh,” Castiel said dumbly.  “Sure.  Yeah.”

 

“Good.”  Balthazar thumped his fist down on his stack of a dozen or so charts before scooting them closer to Castiel with a wicked grin.  “Now, you won’t mind taking care of these, would you?”

 

Castiel chuckled with a shake of his head as he grabbed the pile and added it to his own.  “Of course not.”

 

“Thanks, mate.” He smiled as he shrugged into his coat and turned to head out of the hospital for the night, calling over his shoulder, “Happy Christmas Castiel!”

 

(There would be a bottle of Merlot and a box of dark Belgium chocolates marked _From Castiel_ and a $100 dollar gift certificate to _Le Fou Frog_ in Kansas City marked _From Dean_ waiting for Balthazar in his locker when he returned to work in January.)

 

*****

 

“Hey!” Dean exclaimed happily as he looked down at his phone once he was finished plating pork chops, steamed broccoli, and baked potatoes.  The brothers were having dinner together at Sam’s house while Castiel and Jess were working the late shift at the hospital.  “Cas’s gonna have Christmas Day off!”

 

“How’d he manage that?” Sam asked from the fridge where he pulled out the butter and sour cream. 

 

“Says Balthazar’s flight was cancelled and he offered to work for him.”

 

“Wow, that’s really nice.”

 

“I know.  Guess there’s a thoughtful guy underneath all the promiscuity.”

 

Sam snorted as he grabbed two beers with one hand and headed over to the kitchen table, unloading the drinks and potato fixing.  “You don’t think he’s trying to get in Cas’s pants, do you?”

 

“Hope not.”  But, Dean felt his cheeks heat up when he read that Balthazar had offered them a threesome.  While he wasn’t completely sure whether or not he liked the blond doctor – he’d only met him twice so far and once was when he was doped up on Morphine in the ER – he couldn’t help his horny brain from wandering over the possibilities. 

 

Dean tapped out a one-thumbed reply to the doctor listing a couple of really naughty ideas for what they could do together (alone, without Balthazar’s help) before heading over to the Bobby and Ellen's house for the big family get-together on the evening of the 25th. 

 

They settled at the table in the breakfast nook with their dinner, eating and talking about nothing in particular – the Chiefs’ chance at the playoffs, Sam’s office Christmas party, the current senior line up of Jayhawks men’s basketball team, speculation on whether or not Chuck was going to propose to Becky this year.

 

Just as Dean started to turn the conversation over to summer vacation plans, his phone vibrated on the table.  Swiping his thumb over the screen, he laughed when he read Cas’s reply.  The doctor had had to told a chart in front of his groin when he went in talk to his elderly patient about her broken hip after reading Dean’s suggestions for how to spend Christmas morning.  He typed out a quick _LOL_ and set his phone back down.

 

“So, I was thinking we should head to Vegas this year for vacation.  I should be pretty good with the slot machines.”  He mimed pulling a slot’s handle with his good arm.

 

“About that…” Sam started as he dug into the back pocket of his jeans for his wallet.  He pulled a folded over piece of paper from the bill fold and handed it across the table to Dean.  “Jess and I won’t be able to go on vacation this summer.”

 

“Aww, c’mon.  It’s tradition!” Dean complained with a furrowed brow as he took the paper his brother offered.  He opened it up and gasped.  “Oh…”

 

It was a grainy black and white photo of an alien-shaped thing profiled against a dark egg-shaped space. 

 

Sam gave him a crooked, sheepish grin.  “She’s due in July.”

 

Dean jumped up from the table holding his right arm out to his brother, grinning big and bright.  “C’mere, man.”

 

Sam stood up letting his brother envelope him in a tight, one-armed hug.  “We’re gonna let everybody else know on Christmas Day, but wanted you to know first.”

 

“Wow.  My little brother’s gonna be a dad.”  Dean leaned back still smiling and smacked his hand fondly against Sam’s cheek.  Four years of undergrad, another two years for law school, getting married, buying a house – none of it seemed to scream _Grown Up_ quite like having a kid.

 

Sam reached out to take the sonogram when Dean offered it back to him before sitting down back down.  He looked down at the picture in his hands and shook his head.  “We’ve known since before Thanksgiving, but it didn’t feel real until we got this yesterday.  Now it’s real and terrifying.”

 

Just like that, Sam went back to being the little brother who was scared of taking the training wheels off his bike.

 

Dean pounded him firmly on the shoulder.  “You’re gonna be an amazing dad, Sammy.”

 

“You’re gonna be the cool uncle,” Sam said with a small smile.  His thumb stroked over the sonogram.

 

“Hell yeah, I am!”

 

“Just promise you won’t give my kid his first beer until he’s at least 18.”  Sam looked up at his brother and grinned.

 

Dean chuckled.  “Bobby gave me my first beer when I was fifteen.”

 

“Yeah, and look how you turned out,” he teased.

 

“Hey, I’m awesome!”  Laughing, Dean bent over to put his brother in a headlock, but the gesture was only half effective since he couldn’t give him a noogie with one arm strapped to his chest.

 

When Sam finally managed to extract himself from his brother’s grip, he grabbed the plates from the table to put them in the dishwasher before following Dean into the living room where they spent the rest of the evening reminiscing about clubhouses, stupid stunts gone wrong, and school yard crushes.


	11. Chapter 11

When Castiel pulled into his driveway on Christmas morning after his overnight shift, he couldn’t help but smile at the picturesque view of his house – Christmas tree alight in the big picture window, icicle lights hanging from the porch roof, lighted garland woven between the white porch rails, yard covered in a thick blanket of snow and more snow falling from the slate gray sky above.  He parked in the garage next to the Impala (Dean hadn’t been released to drive yet, but he didn’t want to leave his car parked at his apartment where he couldn’t keep an eye on it), taking a minute to gear himself up for whatever waited for him beyond the front door.  After grabbing his satchel from the passenger seat with one hand and pushing the garage door button with the other, sealing the house up against the frigid outside temperature, he climbed out of the car.

 

The mouthwatering scents of fresh coffee, warm cinnamon, and sweet sugar rushed out to greet him as he opened the door to the house and kicked his shoes off.  So much for sneaking upstairs to crawl in bed next to Dean for a few hours before really starting the day, though he wasn’t too surprised the cop was already up.  He had a feeling that Dean had probably been that little kid who bounded out of bed, bright eyed and bushy tailed, at 6 o’clock on the dot on Christmas morning.

 

“I’m home!” he called out when he didn’t immediately see Dean anywhere.  The den and kitchen were empty.  The TV was on, but the sound was turned low.

 

A set of sock covered toes stretched out over the arm of the couch and Castiel heard the deep inhale of someone just waking up.  Dean’s head poked up over the back of the couch, hair a mess of spikes and flat spots.  Sleepily, he rubbed a knuckle against his eyes and yawned.  “Hey, you’re home.”

 

Castiel detoured his trip into the kitchen to investigate the tasty smell coming from the oven in favor of bee-lining to the couch to get his hands on an adorably sleep-befuddled boyfriend.  He cupped Dean’s scruffy face as he leaned down to press their lips together.  “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Cas,” he said with a happy grin.

 

They kissed over the back of the couch, slow and tender, until Castiel’s stomach started rumbling with impatience.

 

Dean laughed as he untangled himself from the quilt he’d been napping under and stood up, rounding the couch and dragging Castiel over to the kitchen.  An unfamiliar black Kitchenaid stand mixer stood in the middle of the island.  Castiel knew he still had boxes of stuff down in the basement that he hadn’t unpacked from his move back in the spring, but he couldn’t recall having ever bought or been given a stand mixer before, especially since every time he attempted to bake something it always came out the complete opposite of what it was supposed to be – cakes were soggy, breads required a chainsaw to cut, cookies could be used as deadly throwing weapons, and his biscuits made his southern great-grandmother roll over in her grave.

 

“It’s mine,” Dean said in answer to Castiel’s unasked question as he pulled a pan of perfectly golden brown cinnamon rolls from the oven and set them on the island counter.  The smell that danced its way over to Castiel’s nose was ten times better than anything Cinnabon could come up with. 

Dean’s eyes lit up with delight when he caught Castiel drooling over the warm buns.  “Winchester Christmas breakfast tradition.”

 

Castiel poured them each a cup of coffee, doctoring Dean’s with a little half and half and too much sugar and leaving his own black, figuring it’d help cut the sweetness of the cinnamon bun.  “My family doesn’t really do Christmas traditions.”

 

“No?”  Dean carefully spooned thick cream cheese frosting over the piping hot rolls, trying hard not to drip sticky icing all over the counter and failing miserably.  “That sucks.  Oh, hey, they aren’t going to be upset because you’re here for Christmas, are they?”

 

Castiel pulled a stool out from under the island bar and sat down, wrapping his hands around his warm mug.  “We haven’t gotten together for Christmas in years. Mom and the Colonel are usually off volunteering overseas over the holidays.  This year, I think they’re somewhere in Africa.  Luc’s always on call for heart transplants.  Gabe went to London.  Alfie’s up to his ears in books getting ready for his final semester of med school.  Michael’s probably the only one of us who’s was actually planning to celebrate Christmas like a normal person, and that’s only because Rachel would kill him if they didn’t take Alfie and Haley to her parents’ place in Vermont.”

 

“Well, I’m glad you’re with us…me…this year.”  Dean gave him a happy smile and Castiel melted at the sight of it.

 

“I’m glad too.”  More often than not, he worked on Christmas day regardless of if he could have gotten the time off or not.  He’d reasoned that since his family wasn’t getting together, he could work so someone else could have the day off to be with theirs.  “I’m surprised you aren’t with Sam and Jess this morning.”

 

Dean plated up two of the rolls, setting one down in front of Cas before pulling out a stool and sitting next to him.  “They always spend Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with her family.  They’ll be back in time for dinner.  I usually spend the night with Bobby and Ellen to help cook and set up.”

 

“Oh?  Is there anything we should be doing to prepare for tonight?” he asked just before taking a big bite of pastry.  He could feel the sticky icing smeared across his face.

 

Dean laughed, licking the pad of this thumb before reaching up to brush away the gooey mess at the corner of Castiel’s mouth.  “Nah.  Ellen said she had everything handled.  Told me she didn’t want to see my face before five o’clock.  I figured we could have breakfast and then go back to bed for a while.”

 

“Sounds perfect.”  Castiel was just about to lean for a kiss when his phone vibrated against his hip.  Worried that it might be the hospital calling him back in, he fished the phone out of his pocket and swiped his thumb across the screen.  He immediately relaxed when he saw the notification was from Gabriel.  With a laugh, he held the phone out for Dean to see.  “It’s about damn time.”

 

Dean furrowed a brow and looked down.  There on the screen was a beautifully manicured, tan hand sporting a massive, glittery teardrop diamond flanked by rubies embedded in a platinum setting.  “Holy cow, that’s sparkly.”

 

“Gabriel finally grew a pair and asked Kali to marry him.”

 

“How long have they been together?” Dean asked, still eyeballing the obviously, horrendously expensive piece of jewelry.

 

“Seems like forever.  At least 10 years.”  The phone buzzed as another picture came in – a selfie of Gabriel and Kali, nose to nose, grinning at each other like love-sick fools.  Castiel took the phone back to tap out a quick _Congratulations!_

 

After they finished breakfast, Castiel washed their plates and cups while Dean transferred the cinnamon buns into a Tupperware container and set the baking pan on the counter to soak, and then they walked hand in hand upstairs to the bedroom.  As soon as they stepped through the doorway, Dean eagerly started tugging at his t-shirt, being mindful of his still-healing shoulder, but Castiel stopped him.

  
“I know we agreed on no gifts,” he started.

 

Dean rolled his eyes with a little smile.  As the circle of friends and family had grown over the years, it had become increasing difficult and expensive for each person to get presents for everybody at Christmas time.  They tried to do Secret Santa for a few years, but finally came to a unanimous agreement that exchanging presents was too much of a hassle to deal with.  Now, they just focused all of their efforts into the annual Christmas feast at the Singers’ house.

 

“But, I did get you something. It’s not really a Christmas present per se, but I figured today was just as good a day as any to give it to you,” he said as he crossed over to his sock drawer and pulled out a little white box tied with a green and red polka dot ribbon.

 

Dean visibly gulped.

 

Castiel chuckled and held out the box.  “It is a ring, but not that kind of ring.”

 

Dean slid the ribbon over the corners of the box and pulled back the lid.  Inside, nestled between the folds of red tissue paper, was a single brass key on a key ring from which a pewter replica of Led Zeppelin’s Icarus icon hung.

 

“It’s a key to the house.”

 

“But you already gave me a key to your house.”

 

“Yeah, but that was just my extra key.  This one’s yours to keep.”  He paused, nerves getting the better of him for just a moment before he continued.  “And it comes with an invitation that you’re under no obligation to take.”

 

“You want me to move in with you,” Dean stated as he lifted the key chain out of the box.

 

Castiel nodded.  “You don’t have to.”

 

“Good thing the lease on my apartment is up at the end of January,” he said with a grin as he reached out to tug Castiel close.  They kissed long and hard before Dean leaned back, biting gently at his own lip as he looked down at the key chain dangling from his index finger. “My gift seems really sucky in light of this.”

 

“You really didn’t have to get me anything.”  He slid his hands around behind Dean’s neck, tipping his head down for another kiss before murmuring against his lips, “What’d you get me?”

 

“Christmas morning blow job.”

 

“That really is a _sucky_ gift, Dean,” he said with a smirk.

 

Dean cackled with laughter and pushed Castiel down onto the bed.

 

*****

 

Hours later, after a couple of thoroughly satisfying blow jobs and a nice long winter’s nap, Dean and Castiel joined the rest of the clan at Bobby and Ellen’s house for Christmas dinner.  It was the first time in many weeks that everybody had been together in one place at the same time; it was Benny’s first time away from his own house since he’d been discharged from the hospital the week prior.

 

Dinner passed with a dozen conversations going on all at once and everybody trying to contribute to all of them.  There was laughter and smiles and dinner rolls hurtled across the table much to Ellen’s amused dismay.  When the dinner dishes were set aside in favor of dessert plates, Jess and Sam jumped up from the table exclaiming that they’d get the coffee.

 

Castiel helped Garth and Chuck clear the savory dishes off of the table while Charlie and Channing helped Ellen bring in four pies (pumpkin, pecan, blueberry, and apple), two cakes (red velvet and German chocolate), a tray of cookies (snickerdoodle, peanut butter, and chocolate chip), a tray of brownies (with nuts, without nuts, and with cream cheese), and a loaf of gingerbread.

 

Jess and Sam came back into the dining room each carrying a big carafe of coffee over to the sideboard where coffee mugs, creamer, and sugar were already laid out.  When people started shifting to get out of their seats to fix their after-dinner drinks, Jess waved them all to sit back down while Sam carried a steaming mug of coffee up to the head of the table where Bobby sat.

 

“Thanks, boy,” Bobby said gruffly with a smile as he accepted the offered drink.

 

“You’re welcome, Bobby.”  Sam smiled and stood by the chair, waiting patiently.

 

Bobby raised an eyebrow at him, but took his first careful sip of hot coffee.

 

“Bobby Singer, you best take a closer look at that mug,” Ellen gasped as she placed a hand to her heart and looked up at Sam who was nodding at her with a big grin.

 

All eyes turned up towards the head of the table as Bobby squinted down at the mug.  “ _World’s Greatest Grandpa_.  Oh, hardee-har-har, kid.”

 

Jess giggled and handed Bobby a piece of paper.  A couple of seats down from Bobby’s left side, Dean pulled out his cellphone ready to capture the moment he knew was coming.

 

“Oh,” Bobby breathed softly as he looked down at the picture in his hands and tears welled up in his eyes.

 

Smiling happily, Jess and Sam nodded at each other and took a breath before announcing to the group gathered, “We’re pregnant!”

 

The dining room exploded in loud congratulations and laughter.  Bobby stood up and hugged Jess as though she was made out of spun glass, making her squeeze the life out of him in return.  Ellen showered Sam’s shoulder with happy tears before giving Jo a pointed look and flicking her eyes over at Ash in a clear declaration that they needed to get busy on the baby front.  Ash gulped and Jo hissed an embarrassed “ _Mom_!” under her breath.

 

Dean turned to Cas, smiling at the happy look on the other man’s face as he was caught up in the excitement of everyone around him.  He reached over lacing his fingers with the doctors and squeezed them gently to get his attention.  When Cas turned to face him, his smile softened.

 

“Hey, um…do you think we might give the little mooselet a cousin some day?”  Since the idea of moving in with Cas wasn’t sending him running for the hills, Dean figured he might as well test the waters by starting the discussion about where their future together might go.

 

Cas’s eyes widened, but then he smiled and nodded.   “Yeah, some day, but not too soon.”  He leaned closer to Dean, pressing his lips to the corner of his mouth while everybody else was distracted by bombarding Jess and Sam with questions about the new addition to the family.  “I want you all to myself for a little while.”

 

Dean grinned.  “Sounds good to me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the portion of the story. I have a partial sequel mostly ready that I wrote before most of this part was written. Unfold Your Love is mostly the backstory for the story I initially started writing. I was ready to come to a good stopping point for this part before moving on to the next part. :) Not sure how many of you will continue on to the next part since it deals with something I'm a huge fan of (as evidenced by other fics I've written), but lots of people don't particularly care for. Don't worry if you don't want to read the sequel. Unfold Your Love stands on its own pretty well.
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos. It warms my little heart to know that others enjoy the stories I write!

**Author's Note:**

> The story title comes from my favorite Beatles song - _While My Guitar Gently Weeps_. :)


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